

/ 


V L 'v. ; ■ ■ ■ . * 


y y -! f 

i 1 y 

» . t < 


■ 





COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 






































































* 

















i 






















% 








BEING 


Anecdotes of a Missionary 

By 


Rev. Peter Geiermann, C. SS. R. 

(Author of “The Mediator/’ “The 
Narrow Way,” “Private Retreat,” 
“Manual of Theology for the Laity,” 
“Margaret’s Influence,” etc., etc.) 



Published by 


MATRE & COMPANY 

CHICAGO 



imprimi put rat: 

C. D. McEnniry, C. SS. R 
Sup. Prov. 




NUjU <0botat: 

P. L. Biermann, 
Censor Deputatus. 


imprimatur: 

•^George William Cardinal Mundelein 
Archbishop of Chicago 


COPYRIGHT, 1924 , BY MATRE AND COMPANY. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES. 

APR 26’24 


©CH792298 
VO l 








FOREWORD 


These Anecdotes were written at 
the solicitation of friends to preserve 
some of the stories the author had told 
them after his various missionary 
tours. They are now given to the 
public in the hope of inspiring the 
reader with confidence in the infinite 
goodness and mercy of God and the 
compassionate love of Mary in the 
daily trials of life. Whenever an anec¬ 
dote might cause embarrassment to 
anyone fictitious names are used. 


The Author. 































































* 













' 










INDEX OF ANECDOTES 

Page 

“Hail, Holy Queen! I’m Much Obliged".... 15 

The Sheep that Was Lost... 17 

“O Mary, Cure My Child".. 19 

A Nocturnal Visitor....... 22 

A Christian Engagement. i . 24 

A Contrite Sinner.. 26 

“He Disgraced Himself for Me". 27 

“I Had A Good Mother". 28 

“You Have Taken Part in My Rosary". 30 

Only A Blade of Palm... 32 

With and Without God’s Blessing. 34 

“To Hell with the Mission". 36 

“Go to Dan Logue At Once". 38 

A Singular Conversion. v . 40 

Johnnie’s Atonement -.... 41 

An Ample Apology...... 43 

The Banshee -.„. 45 

A Conductor’s Conversion.... 47 

A Friend in Need.... 50 

Her Mother’s Mirror... 52 

A Profession of Faith.. 55 

A Volunteer, or A Wife’s Influence.... 57 

The Miraculous Medal and Ouija.... 59 

Sealed Directions ...... 62 


























INDEX OF ANECDOTES 


Page 

Our Lady Converts an Apostate.. 60 

His Mother’s Rosary...--- 64 

“Have My Child Baptized”_____ 67 

“I Belong to the Sacred Heart”-- 69 

Charlie’s Sandwich ...... 71 

Mary, Our Advocate with Jesus.-- 73 

A Bouquet of Roses..... 75 

“The Blessed Virgin Saved Me from the Pen—The 
Devil Can’t Get Me Now”.. 78 

Deacon Flood ........ 82 

The Efficacy of Children’s Prayer, Assisted by Mr. 

Flood *....... 84 

The Reward of Hail Mary... 87 

“Fie Is Anxious to Make the Vote Unanimous”_ 90 

The Courtship of Fritz Wagner........ 92 

Father Smith Publishes the Banns. jl . 94 

An Outlaw Is Converted Through the Memorare. 96 

“There Is No Hell!”....... 98 

Man Proposes; God Disposes.. 100 

“He Hath Blasphemed”... 102 

She Was Taken Up to Heaven with Her Rosary. 104 

He Missed the Meeting____ 106 

“He Is Too Young to Marry”.. 108 

Satan Had Robbed Her of Her Peace... 110 





















INDEX OF ANECDOTES 


Page 

I Pray for China-Babies..______ 111 

“When in Trouble Say A Hail Mary”. 114 

The Sexton Is Converted By the “Sinner’s Bell”_ 115 

A Mother’s Love. 117 

“Too Busy to Make the Mission”.. 119 

A Sinner in Whom Our Lady Was Interested. 121 

“Those Scapulars” . 123 

“A Judgment of Heaven”______ 125 

No Happiness Without Religion..... 126 

A Genuine Convert. 128 

The Missionary of the Ozarks. 130 

“Because I Love the Blessed Virgin”. 132 

An Influenza Convert. 134 

He Had the Priest But Not the Sacraments. 136 

The Grand Jury. 138 

“Mary Loves You Still”. 140 

“Mary Is My Mother”. 142 

Converts from Lutheranism. 143 










































































































Anecdotes of a Missionary 

Geiermann 




















































































* 












































A 

















: 





















































/ 








ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


15 


“HAIL, HOLY QUEEN! I’M 
MUCH OBLIGED” 

W HILE making his rounds of the county hospi¬ 
tal one day, the chaplain found two patients 
in a little ward where they had been left by the at¬ 
tendants to die, so that they would not disturb the 
other patients by their death-struggle. One happened 
to be a colored man, who had never been baptized, 
while the other was a white man who had aposta¬ 
tized from the faith. Both were still conscious, but 
in imminent danger of death. After making the 
necessary inquiries, the chaplain devoted his special 
attention to the white man and exhorted him to make 
his peace with God. This patient, however, refused 
the chaplain’s kind offer, cursed him and abused him 
shamefully. Finally he sought to rid himself of his 
annoyance by saying: “As soon as you make a 

Catholic of that-nigger I will go to confession.” 

With an apology for the white man’s language the 
chaplain then approached the cot on which the dying 
negro lay, and said: “My friend, God created every 
man for heaven. His Son died upon the cross to 
give every one of good will the means of attaining 
eternal happiness. He has no preference in regard 
to race or color, and tells us that a favor which is 
refused by one is taken away and given to another. 
You have just heard that man refuse to be reconciled 
to the Lord. 1 am going to kneel down and pray 
to the Mother of the Saviour to intercede with her 
Son that this favor which he has refused, be offered 
to you.” And he knelt down and prayed “Hail, Holy 
Queen,” in a loud voice. 

At the conclusion of the prayer the colored man 
turned to the chaplain and inquired with animation: 
“Do you mean to say, sah, there is a chance for 
this nigger to go to the white man’s heaven?” 



16 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“I certainly do,” replied the chaplain, good-natured¬ 
ly. “The Lord loves all of us so much that He is 
color-blind. If you wish I will give you a first-class 
ticket to heaven, and a clear title to a mansion of the 
elect. The conditions are that you believe in God, 
have confidence in the merits of Jesus Christ, be 
truly sorry for your sins, and seek to please God as 
long as you live.” 

“The bargain is closed,” said the colored man with 
decision. “I reckon, however, that you had better 
elucidate those conditions somewhat so that I may 
carry them out to the letter. Before we proceed with 
the negotiations,” he resumed in a gentler tone, “I 
would like to ask you as a favor, sah, to repeat that 
prayer for me again. It has touched my heart, and 
I am awfully anxious to remember it, so that I can 
show my appreciation to the Lady when I git above.” 

The chaplain willingly complied with the colored 
man’s request, instructed him in the necessary truths, 
helped him to make an act of contrition, and bap¬ 
tized him. When he finally concluded his ministra¬ 
tions the colored man expressed his gratitude by de¬ 
voutly repeating: “Hail, Holy Queen—I’m much 
obliged.” 

“I win!” said the chaplain as he again faced the 
white man. 

“I’m game,” doggedly replied the patient, “but 
what’s the use? You have already given that nigger 
my place in heaven, and besides, I have committed 
crimes that God can’t stand for. I have killed a man, 
accused another of the crime, and falsely sworn away 
his life.” 

“The more wrong you have done the more reason 
have you for putting all your trust in the infinite 
merits of Jesus Christ, Who died to save you from 
hell,” explained the chaplain. “It is true, you refused 
the grace of God a while ago, and that good man 
eagerly accepted it. But the treasures of grace are 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


17 


infinite, and God wishes them to be effective. Will 
you accept that grace now?” 

”1 would if my sins could be forgiven, but they are 
too great,” said the dying man, trembling from head 
to foot. 

“As you haven’t long to live, and wish to die in peace,” 
resumed the chaplain, “I will take your sins upon myself 
and be responsible for them before the judgment seat 
of God, even as the Saviour took upon himself the sins 
of the world.” 

“I cannot accept so generous an offer,” protested 
the dying man as he tried to raise himself up in bed. 

“But I insist,” replied the chaplain. “You are 
dying. I am not. Rest assured our blessed Lady will 
help me make things right with the God of infinite 
mercy. So we will now proceed with your confes¬ 
sion.” 

“Thank you, Father,” said the dying man with a 
sigh of relief, and blessing himself began his confes¬ 
sion. After he had received all the consolations of 
his holy religion he begged the priest to say “that 
prayer” with him. So both recited “Hail, Holy 
Queen” together. While the chaplain was reciting 
the concluding oration, the patient sighed like a 
slumbering child, murmured “Hail, Holy Queen, 
Mother of Mercy,” and died. 


THE SHEEP THAT WAS LOST 


HE Saviour tells us “there shall be more joy in 



1 heaven upon one sinner that doeth penance than 
upon ninety-nine just who need not penance.” In pro¬ 
portion as the faithful on earth are interested in the 
Master’s cause, they share in this joy upon a sinner’s 
repentance. Father Barry experienced this happiness 




18 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


when he finally succeeded in reconciling John Conway 
to God. 

Like the Good Shepherd, Father Barry went in 
search of the lost sheep. For years he pursued John 
Conway with kindness without bringing him to church. 
By experience he learned to expect an insult whenever 
he mentioned the subject of religion to this old miner. 
So he begged the Master to touch the heart of this 
prodigal son and lead him to true repentance. 

In making the round of the hospital one day, the 
priest found John Conway in a dying condition. 
“John, you are a very sick man,” said the priest after 
expressing his sympathy upon finding him a patient 
in the institution. “Wouldn’t you like to receive Holy 
Communion?” “No,” replied John emphatically, “I 
will wait until I can go to church.” When the priest 
insisted, John became angry and turned his face to 
the wall. 

After ministering to another patient, Father Barry 
returned to the room occupied by the old miner. 
Kneeling down by the patient’s bed, he said: “John, I 
will say a prayer with you.” But Conway was still in 
a surly mood and interrupted him by declaring he 
did not need the assistance of the priest to say his 
prayers. 

After failing in a third attempt to convert John Con¬ 
way, Father Barry started to leave the hospital. 
When he had proceeded as far as the door, however, 
some invisible power seemed to detain him and urge 
him to return. Fie calmly re-entered the sick room 
and seated himself near the patient. 

“How long since you were to Confession?” he quiet¬ 
ly asked, as though he had been summoned by the 
dying man. “Forty-five years,” replied John Conway. 
The priest then proceeded delicately to examine the 
conscience of the old miner. When this had been 
accomplished, he surprised him by saying: “Now 
that you have made your Confession, I will make an 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


19 


act of contrition with you and give you Holy Com¬ 
munion.” 

To Father Barry’s delight, John Conway was now 
a changed man. He received the Sacraments with 
great piety and apologized to the priest for his rude¬ 
ness. “Have you practised any devotion during life, 
John, that gave you a claim on this extra-ordinary 
grace?” inquired the priest of the dying man. “The 
only prayer I said during these years,” replied John 
feebly, is: ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my 
heart and my soul. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, assist 
me in my last agony. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, may I 
breathe forth my soul with you in peace.’ ” He then 
went to sleep like a child. 


“O MARY, CURE MY CHILD!’’ 

UT T EI.LO. Captain Baker! Why are you carry- 

-L J- ing your arm in a sling?” 

“Father, I went down to St. Louis to bring back 
a man who has five murders to his record. Though 
I had him handcuffed, he got my gun while we were 
boarding the train and shot me before I subdued him. 
He is going to hang a week from tomorrow. He is 
a strange character with a religious mania. When 
he was taken he had about five pounds of crucifixes 
and medals on his person and wore the scapular, but 
now he refuses to talk to a priest.” 

“What is his name,” asked the missionary. “I 
have been too busy to read the papers since I came 
to town.” 

“He has many names,” replied the detective, 
“though I have reason to think his real name is John 
Martin, and that he was born in Ohio. 

“What?” exclaimed the missionary in surprise. 




20 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“John Martin ? When I was a boy he advised me to 
become a priest and a missionary. I did hear he 
went wrong later on, but I am sorry to learn that 
this has been his career. As he once gave me good 
advice, however, I ought to see what I can do for him 
now. Will you show me the way if I meet you tomor¬ 
row at 10 o’clock ?” 

“I will be delighted to do so,” replied Captain Baker. 

When the missionary paused before the iron bars of 
the condemned man’s cell the following day, Martin 
flew into a rage and exclaimed: “I don’t want to see 
any-priest!” 

“Just look the other way then while I tell you a 
story,” pleasantly replied the priest. Martin sullenly 
paced up and down his cage as the priest seated him¬ 
self and said: “Forty years ago there was a poor 
couple living on a little farm in Ohio. They had prayed 
for a child for a long time before God blessed them 
with a son. He was welcomed and cared for as a mes¬ 
senger from heaven. When the lad was four years old 
he fell on the ice and sustained a compound fracture 
of the hip. When the doctors declared he would be 
a cripple all the days of his life, his mother, full of 
faith and confidence, carried him to a chapel in the 
woods, dedicated him to Mary, Queen of the Rosary, 
and besought her to cure him. For nine days she 
came and prayed the rosary, while the little boy lay 
at the foot of the altar. After each Hail Mary she 
said: ‘O Mary, cure my child.’ On the ninth day 
she added an act of consecration, dedicating her son 
for time and eternity to the Mother of God. Suddenly 
the lad sprang to his feet and said to his mother: ‘Ma, 
I’m hungry! Let’s go home and have dinner!’” 

Here the prisoner paused at the bars, and with a 
look of astonishment cried out: “And who are you?” 

“Please, don’t interrupt my narrative,” kindly pro¬ 
tested the missionary, and proceeded. “The boy was 
cured from that hour. He was brought up with all 
the care due to a favored child of Mary. When he 



ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


21 


was fourteen years of age his mother decided that the 
time had come to give her child to God. Without con¬ 
sulting him in the matter she sent him to a seminary 
to become a priest. At first the novelty appealed to 
him, but he always felt out of place. He did not want 
to become a priest, and yet he was too much of a cow¬ 
ard to inform his mother or his confessor. His mother 
was foolish, but meant well in what she did. The son 
was foolish at first, but developed a vicious character 
as time went on. During one of his vacations he fell 
in love with a city girl, and several months before the 
time set for his ordination he left the seminary at 
night when all were asleep. 

‘Tn the seminary he must have read dime novels in¬ 
stead of studying his text-books, for soon after his 
departure from the seminary he broke into a jewelry 
store and stole $10,000 worth of diamonds for his 
sweetheart. He was arrested, however, with the 
goods on his person and sent to the penitentiary for 
ten years. Here he was thoroughly initiated into evil 
ways by his associates, and graduated eventually as a 
daring highway robber. Besides many other crimes 
he now has five murders on his guilty soul. He is 
daily steeling his heart against the promptings of 
grace, but if he were to close his eyes calmly for a 
moment he would see his good mother kneeling in 
the little chapel praying as he heard her pray years 
ago: ‘O Mary, cure my child!’ It is true he broke 
her heart and sent her to an early grave by his wicked 
life. But in heaven she is now kneeling before the 
throne of mercy. ‘O Mary, cure my child,’ she says. 
‘He is your child now, for I consecrated him to you for 
time and eternity!” 

By this time John Martin was on his knees, weeping 
like a child. “O Mother, forgive me,” he sobbed, “for 
all the sorrow I have caused you! O God, be merciful 
to me a great sinner! Holy Mary, Mother of God, 
pray, pray for this miserable wretch! O, what a ter¬ 
rible delusion! I thought the whole world, even my 


22 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


parents and the priests, were leagued against me, and 
I fought back in desperation, but now I see it was all 
my own fault.” Finally he turned to the missionary 
and humbly asked: “And who are you, Father, that 
knows my whole life?” “I am the little boy you warned 
one vacation against the dangers of the world,” replied 
the priest, “and urged to become a missionary if I 
wished to do great things for the good of souls. I fol¬ 
lowed your advice, and now owe you a boundless debt 
of gratitude.” 

“Can you have any pity for such a wretch as me, 
Father?” asked the condemned man with great mis¬ 
givings depicted on his countenance. 

“I not only pity you, my friend, but I sincerely 
sympathize with you,” the missionary assured him, 
“and I am most anxious to reconcile you to God and 
to give you all the consolations of our holy religion 
in return for the favor you have done me. Here is a 
rosary for you, and a picture of Our Lady of the 
Rosary, your favorite picture of Our Lady as a child.” 

“O, thank you, Father, a thousand times!” ex¬ 
claimed Martin, as he eagerly accepted the articles. 
“Come tomorrow and help me make a good confession 
of my whole life. I am so glad you have come. Stay 
with me to the end, and just before the trap falls whis¬ 
per into my ear my mother's prayer, ‘O Mary, cure my 
child.’ It has touched my heart and inspires me with 
hope of forgiveness and of life eternal.” 


A NOCTURNAL VISITOR 

want to see the man who preached tonight,” an- 
nounced the sullen, stalwart visitor. “It’s after 
11 o’clock,” pleaded the house-keeper in alarm. “Can’t 
you wait until morning? The Fathers have been 
working hard and are tired.” “No! I can’t wait,” re¬ 
plied the man impatiently, “I must see him right away. 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


23 


I know he is here. I have watched him since the 
sermon, and I just saw him leave the church and come 
to the house.” 

The mission was drawing vast crowds. It’s influence 
was felt not only in the homes of practical Catholics, 
but even in the saloons, the gambling houses, and the 
dens of infamy, where Jim Smith worshipped since he 
had convinced himself that there was no hell. Though 
born of Catholic parents, Jim manifested a wayward 
disposition as a boy, and had drifted away from all 
religious restraint before he made his home in 
Ashland. 

A bosom friend of Jim’s had gone to the church 
the opening night of the exercises for the men, and 
was so fascinated by the services that he resolved to 
make the mission and change his life. When Jim 
could not prevail on his friend to accompany him to 
their accustomed haunts of vice, he, too, resolved to 
go to the church one night. 

Instead of seeing the haughty, polished lecturer he 
had anticipated, Jim was surprised to find a simple, 
clear-eyed man, who placed the reasons of faith and 
revelation on the existence, the nature and the dura¬ 
tion of the pains of hell, with such unction before his 
hearers that even Jim’s hard heart was involuntarily 
touched. But, when his pride and evil habits rebelled 
against grace, the tempter whispered: “Kill the liar, 
for there is no hell!” 

Thus it happened when the missionary entered the 
parlor that Jim Smith pointed his gun at him and 
shouted : “You don’t believe a word of what you 
said to-night!” “Don’t speak so loud, please,” calmly 
replied the missionary. “It isn’t necessary to rouse 
the house. You and I can settle this alone. Sit down 
and tell me your trouble, so that I can answer your 
questions clearly, for I do believe in hell.” 

After Jim Smith had given the priest an outline 
of his life, he concluded by saying: “I would have 


24 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


shot you before you left the pulpit if you had not 
made that kind appeal to the sinner to turn from his 
evil ways.” “I fear you are quarreling with yourself, 
and resisting the grace of God,” then said the priest 
kindly. “Do you think the Son of God would have 
become man, and have died that cruel death upon the 
cross,” he asked, as he held up his mission-cross, “if 
He wanted to damn you to hell? Do you think I could 
spend my life in working for strangers if I did not 
wish to make them eternally happy? Put your gun 
away, man. Don’t you see how miserable your sins 
have made you? Kneel down and kiss the image of 
your crucified Saviour, and say with the publican, 
‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’ ” After a mom¬ 
ent’s hesitation, Jim Smith knelt down awkwardly, 
timidly kissed the crucifix, and then humbly begged 
the missionary to hear his confession. 


A CHRISTIAN ENGAGEMENT 

ffTT^ATHER, I have decided to take a course in 

r religion,” began a nervous young man, who had 
called on one of the Jesuit Fathers in Detroit. “I will 
be grateful if you will instruct me, and I will gladly 
pay you for your trouble.” “Do you intend to become 
a Catholic?” kindly asked the priest. “By no means!” 
sharply replied the young man. “I met a charming 
young lady and called on her a few times. Last night 
she begged me to discontinue my visits, as she would 
never think of marrying any one but a Catholic. As I 
have reason to think she likes me I merely wish to 
find out what there is to her religion that prompted 
her to take this step.” 

“I sympathize with you,” said the priest with a 
smile, “and I think I understand your position. As 
this will be a work of love I ask no other recompense 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


25 


on your part than sincerity and good will in your 
studies,” he continued. “Tell me, then, what do you 
know of God?” “God?” echoed the young man 
blankly. “God!” he repeated, as he looked at the 
ceiling and then at the floor. “Oh, the One who was 
supposed to have made all things?” he asked with a 
look of intelligence. “Evolution robbed Him of a job, 
and proved Him to be a myth.” 

“When and how did evolution do this wonderful 
thing?” asked the Jesuit calmly. I really don’t 
know,” replied the young man. “We were taught 
that at school.” “And where did this physical world 
come from before it began to evolve?” persisted the 
priest. “I have no idea,” replied the young man, 

“unless-.unless-.” “Precisely,” said the 

priest. “Unless in the beginning God created heaven 
and earth, as the first words of the Bible tell us.” “I 
see!” remarked the young man in a dazed condition. 
“At school we surely did not go down to bed-rock.” 
“Religion is the science of knowing, loving and serv¬ 
ing God,” said the Jesuit after a pause. “Take this 
little catechism, learn the prayers and read over the 
first four chapters for discussion at our next session. 
I am glad you called.” 

On Christmas eve, six months later, this young man 
phoned the young lady and begged to accompany her 
to Christmas Mass. A reluctant consent sufficed to 
bring him to her door in ample time to accompany 
her and her family. All were too absorbed in their 
devotions to pay any special attention to the young 
man until the time for Communion arrived. Then the 
young lady was horrified to see him follow her to the 
railing. Twice she turned and whispered to him to 
go back. Though near her, he did not seem to under¬ 
stand, or was borne along with the crowd that surged 
to the railing. Not daring to cause a scene, she per¬ 
mitted him to kneel next to her, but was so disturbed 
that she hardly made any thanksgiving. “How dared 



26 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


you receive Holy Communion?” she demanded, as 
they reached the vestibule. “Because I was baptized 
yesterday,” replied the young man triumphantly. Of 
course congratulations were then in order. When 
finally they emerged from the vestibule, the young 
lady was wearing a platinum engagement ring. 


A CONTRITE SINNER 

<<\^OU will never git Joe to go to church,” re- 
marked the storekeeper to Father Barry, as he 
cast a glance towards an old miner, who just then 
happened to enter the store. Although Joe was a 
pioneer in the camp and a well-known character in 
town, even the zealous pastor had never suspected 
him of any Catholic affiliation. 

“Good morning, Joe,” Father Barry greeted the old 
miner a few moments later, as he took him by the 
hand and shook it cordially. “I have some good 
news for you, Joe. Next Sunday we begin a mission 
in the Catholic church. I am so glad to meet you 
here, for I want you to come at 10 o’clock.” “How do 
you know I am a Catholic?” parried Joe, suspiciously. 
“Religion is like the smallpox, Joe,” replied the pastor, 
similing, “it’s bound to crop out.” Then putting his 
hands on the miner’s shoulders and beaming on him 
with a look of friendship, he added: “I’ll be looking 
for you Sunday at 10 o’clock. Will you be there, 
Joe?” “I will!” replied Joe with a new determina¬ 
tion. 

The mission opened with a better attendance than 
on ordinary Sundays. When the services were over 
and the faithful filed out of the church, Joe was al¬ 
ready on the sidewalk. Facing them with a twinkle 
in his eye, he said: “Ladies and gentlemen, I con¬ 
gratulate you that the church did not fall in on 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


2 7 


you to-day. I was there for the first time in forty 
years.” And without waiting for his acquaintances 
to reciprocate his congratulations, Joe hurried on to 
his dinner. 

The mission progressed until Saturday afternoon 
before Joe was seen near the church again. While 
the missionary was in the church Father Barry was 
in his study saying Matins and Lauds when he ob¬ 
served the old miner pass by. Tapping on the win¬ 
dow the pastor motioned to him to come in. “Have 
you been to Confession to the missionary, Joe?” asked 
Father Barry when the miner had taken a chair. 
have not,” replied Joe. “I’m afraid he would have to 
stay another week if he began on me. Besides, the 
priest to whom I want to confess my sins is not far 
away just now.” “Joe, you rogue, do you still know 
the act of contrition?” asked Father Barry, with evi¬ 
dent delight, as he reached for his purple stole. “It’s 
the only prayer I’ve said since I came to camp,” Joe 
replied. 


“HE DISGRACED HIMSELF FOR ME” 

LEASE, Father, do you think I could become 
a Magdalen?” asked a young woman, blooming 
with health, as she entered the parlor. I was preach¬ 
ing a retreat for the “penitents” at the Home of the 
Good Shepherd, and the mother has requested me 
to see a few of the children. 

After inviting my visitor to be seated, I looked at 
her carefully. If I were not within the walls of a 
reformatory I would have considered the young wo¬ 
man, who smiled so eagerly upon me, the personifica¬ 
tion of innocence and piety. She certainly seemed to 
have more stability of character than the average 
graduate of our boarding schools. 

“What put that motion into your head?” I asked 
with intention of drawing her out. “Because I came 




28 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


here to serve God with my whole heart and soul,” re¬ 
plied the young woman without any hesitation. “Then 
you weren’t brought here by your parents, or sent 
by the court?” I cruelly persisted, determined to dis¬ 
cover this young woman’s view of life. 

“No Father,” she replied, “I am here of my own 
free will?” And continued as she saw I was waiting 
further enlightenment, “I am the oldest of nine chil¬ 
dren. My parents live in-,-. I have been 

a daily communicant at home, and have read several 
spiritual books. In one of these I learned about the 
Magdalens, and found that one had to be a penitent in 
the Home of the Good Shepherd before she could be¬ 
come a Magdalen. 

“I felt myself drawn to this sweet communion with 
our Saviour, which is the privilege of the Magdalens. 
J finally obtained my parents consent to come and 
work for the dear sisters. I wrote to be admitted to 
the penitent class, and have now been here two years. 
On your recommendation, Father, I can be admitted 
to the novitiate of the Magdalens. Please help me.” 

I was keenly perplexed, and attempted to change 
her mind. “A woman of your education and ability 
could become a useful member of some teaching Or¬ 
der,” I remarked. But, please Father, I feel drawn 
to this life,” she persisted. “Why, child,” I said, “you 
would disgrace yourself by taking this step.” “Not 
so much,” she replied triumphantly, “as He disgraced 
Himself for love of me.” As the Holy Ghost was 
evidently guiding her, I could not withhold the cov¬ 
eted recommendation. 

“I HAD A GOOD MOTHER” 

\\J HEN the missionary stepped from the train at 
^ * Silverton, two husky miners confronted him. 
“Hello, Father!” exclaimed one, while the other came 
toreward and offered to carry the priest’s suitcase. 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


29 


Thinking the pastor had sent them to meet the be¬ 
lated train, the missionary gratefully accepted the 
services of the miner and started for the parochial 
residence. 

Upon making inquiries of his guide about condi¬ 
tions in the town, the missionary was surprised to re¬ 
ceive the reply: “We are strangers in Silverton. We 
came up yesterday to look for work, but don’t like 
conditions. We are from Arizona, and intended to 
leave on the afternoon freight. As it may be late 
when we reach Durango, my pal went up town to 
bring lunch for both of us.” 

“I regret you cannot stay for the mission,” re¬ 
marked the missionary, as he studied his companion 
closely. “The fact is, I took you for one of the 
pastor’s friends. As things are, I ought to do some¬ 
thing to show my appreciation for your kindness to¬ 
wards me.” As the miner smiled pleasantly the mis¬ 
sionary continued: “Men that knock about a good 
deal often forget Church and the Sacraments. How 
long since you were to Confession?” “Not since I 
was a young man in Leadville, when Father Brown 
was pastor,” replied the miner. “I had a good mother 
and intended to do what is right. I got in with bad 
companions when I left home, and haven’t been to 
church since.” 

“I am very sorry you haven’t proven yourself a 
worthy son of your mother in the past. You have 
still time to mend your ways and make her feel proud 
of you. When we reach St. Patrick’s church will 
you step inside and prepare for Confession. Don’t 
worry; I will help you, even as you are now helping 
me up this hill. All I ask of you is to turn over a 
new leaf and receive Holy Communion tomorrow in 
Durango.” 

The pastor was waiting for the missionary in front 
of the church and greeted him kindly. “Who is the 
stranger?” he asked, as he looked toward the house 


30 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


of God. “I haven’t any idea,” replied the missionary. 
“I thought you had sent him to meet me. He wants 
to go to Confession, as he must leave on the freight.” 

Shortly after the missionary had .heard the 
strangers Confession the latter presented himself at 
the parochial residence and asked to be given “the 
pledge.” Later on the pastor looked at the mis¬ 
sionary’s bald head and said, with a roguish smile: 
“I have heard of silly old maids falling in love with 
handsome missionaries, but this looks to me like the 
beginning of a good mission.” 


“YOU HAVE TAKEN PART IN MY 
ROSARY” 

7E HAD just closed the mission in - 

VV said the missionary. The church was a mile 
from the depot, and the train was scheduled to leave at 
7 o’clock. Not wishing to omit holy Mass, I arose at 
half-past four. After making my thanksgiving, I be¬ 
gan to pack my grip, and remembered that I had left 
a prayerbook and a rosary in the confessional. I re¬ 
turned to the church to bring them, and had arrived 
at the confessional when a middle-aged man entered. 
He looked sad and worried. Feeling compassion for 
him, I approached and said : ‘Good morning. Is there 
anything I can do for you?’ 

“‘Yes,’ he eagerly replied. ‘Please hear my con¬ 
fession. I got to go!’ There was a disturbed look in 
his eye that made me doubt his sanity. Seeking to 
calm him, I said kindly: ‘You don’t have to go if 
you don’t want to receive the Sacraments.’ ‘But I 
know that I shall be damned if I don’t make my con¬ 
fession now,’ he replied with great earnestness. Still 
puzzled, I sought a clue to the man’s conduct by ask¬ 
ing : ‘The mission lasted all week, why didn’t you 



ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


31 


come before?’ ‘I didn’t want to,’ replied the man. 
‘Were you to the mission at all?’ I asked. ‘I hap¬ 
pened along Saturday night and came in out of 
curiosity. You were saying the rosary. Though it was 
thirty-six years since I said a prayer, I remembered the 
rosary, for my mother taught it to me as a child. I 
joined in it for awhile, but soon a strange feeling 
came over me. All the sins of my mis-spent life be¬ 
gan to parade before my mind. I thought of confes¬ 
sion, and something urged me to wait until after the 
service and make my peace with God. I was afraid 
I might do something rash, so I picked up my hat 
and left.’ 

“ ‘Shame on you,’ I replied. ‘That was the grace of 
God calling you to repentance.’ ‘Well, I didn’t know,’ 
protested the stranger, ‘and I wasn’t going to make 
a fool of myself.’ ‘And what did you do after leaving 
the church?’ I asked. ‘I walked the streets for hours 
and then played cards until midnight in the hope of 
ridding myself of that strange feeling. I went to 
bed at midnight but I didn’t sleep.’ ‘Yesterday was 
Sunday Did you go to church?’ ‘No, I didn’t. I 
had made up my mind to fight the thing out, so I 
did the same as the night before. I walked around 
all day and played cards until midnight. I was so 
tired that I thought I had to sleep, but the more I 
closed my eyes the more sleep seemed to keep from 
me. About half an hour ago I heard some one call 
me by name. I sat up in bed and asked: “Well?” 
A sweet, sad, woman’s voice answered: “You have 
taken part in my rosary Saturday night. I have of¬ 
fered you the grace of sincere conversion. If you 
don’t go to confession before the missionaries leave, 
you will die in your sins.” 

“ ‘Father, those words sounded terrible, and made 
me tremble from head to foot. I realized only then 
that Mary had been so good as to obtain this special 
grace for me. I gave up the fight there and then, got 


32 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


on my knees to thank God for His mercy, dressed 
as quickly as possible, and came to church. I am so 
glad I found you here, and I hope you will not refuse 
to hear my confession.’ ‘I will hear you,’ I replied, 
‘even if I miss my breakfast to catch my train.’ ‘Be¬ 
fore I begin/ said the man, ‘I want to take the pledge 
for life. I also promise to cut loose from my former 
associates. I realize what a fool I have been, and I 
promise with the help of God’s grace to prove myself 
worthy of our Lady’s favor.’ ” 


ONLY A BLADE OF PALM 

NE OF the young men who acted on Horace 
Greeley’s suggestion and went west to seek his 
fortune, was Leonard Williams. Born of poor parents, 
Williams had to quit school at an early age. To aid 
his family in the struggle for existence, he labored 
for years in the coal mines of Pennsylvania when 
other boys of his age were free from care. Being 
naturally studious and ambitious, the coal mine became 
both high school and university for young Williams. 
For by the time the family had become self-support¬ 
ing, he had mastered the science of geology and be¬ 
come a practical mining engineer. 

About that time the gold-fever of the Forty-niners 
had disappeared, and vague rumors of rich ore de¬ 
posits in Colorado had been in circulation throughout 
the eastern states. Young Williams traced several 
of these rumors to their source, carefully sifted the 
information obtained, and finally decided to set out 
for the Pike’s Peak region. After prospecting for 
a while, he finally staked his claim in a convenient 
locality, and began operations with the meager re¬ 
sources at his disposal. The result verified the cor¬ 
rectness of his judgment, for in due time Mr. Wil- 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


33 


liams struck a rich deposit of gold and silver ore. 
Instead of drinking and gambling to celebrate the 
dawn of prosperity, however, he persevered in the 
practice of his religion and redoubled his efforts to 
increase the output of his mine. And before many 
years had rolled by, Mr. Williams began to make 
regular trips to the Pueblo smelters with trainloads 
of precious ore. 

On one of these trips an incident occurred that was 
destined by Providence to influence Mr. Williams’ 
entire life. It had been his practice to arrange his 
trips to Pueblo so as to give him the opportunity of 
celebrating the principal feasts of the Church in town. 
This year Williams arrived during P,assion week with 
the intention of remaining for the Easter celebration. 
On Palm Sunday he heard Mass in St. Ignatius 
church. Being a stranger he naturally waited until 
most of the parishioners had received the blessed palm 
before approaching the altar railing. The members 
of the choir immediately preceded him. 

As Mr. Williams approached, he observed a vacant 
space next to the organist and crowded into it. Per¬ 
haps he felt more awkward in this position than in the 
cramped quarters of his mine. Perhaps the organist 
paid more attention to the handsome man at her side 
than to the distribution of the palms. At any rate, 
as the celebrant approached with the long blades of 
palm for the faithful, Williams caught hold of one 
end of a blade, while the organist grasped the other. 
When both bowed reverently to kiss the blessed palm, 
their cheeks touched. To this day neither knows 
whether the celebrant observed their confusion, as 
he calmly proceeded with the distribution, but Mr. 
Williams is certain that he carried off the palm that 
day. After the services Mr. Williams lingered near 
the church door to offer his apologies to the young 
lady and to beg her pardon for the embarrassment his 
awkwardness had caused her. By the time the 


34 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


organist had collected the music and closed the organ, 
the faithful had already departed. “I wish to apolo¬ 
gize for my stupidity and to offer you the palm I took 
from you,” began Mr. Williams sheepishly. “It was 
all my own fault,” protested the organist with a 
roguish smile. “Will you accompany me to the post- 
office? I expect a letter from my mother.” 

Instead of a brief apology, their meeting was thus 
protracted into a visit to an ice-cream parlor and 
later to a dinner at the hotel. The young lady was 
Miss Cullorton of Missouri, who had come to Pueblo 
in the hope of saving some property her mother 
owned. Through the influence of friends she had 
secured a position as teacher in the city schools and 
devoted her talents on Sunday morning to enhance 
the divine services. Though married many years now, 
both Mr. and Mrs. Williams still treasure the piece 
of blessed palm they devoutly kissed at their first 
meeting in St. Ignatius’ church. 


WITH AND WITHOUT GOD’S 
BLESSING 

OU HAVE a beautiful new church,” remarked 
the missionary to Mr. Eberhart, a refined old 
gentleman who spent much of his time before the 

Blessed Sacrament during the mission at-, Wis. 

“It is a fine church,” admitted the old man with 
satisfaction, “but the old one is dearer to me,” he 
added as he turned and smiled at a little frame struc¬ 
ture. “I built that with my own hands forty years 
ago. When my brother and 1 came over sixty years 
ago we settled on a tract of land where Chicago now 
stands. As the soil was poor and swampy, and there 
seemed no prospect of the little town developing, we 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


35 


sold out and came here to better ourselves. We found 
three Catholic families on our arrival, who had not 
seen a priest since they came west. As we had been 
accustomed to go to church I wrote to the Bishop and 
told him of our condition. He wrote a nice letter 
and promised to send us a priest occasionally if we 
would build a church. When we approached the 
others on the subject the richest man among them 
said: ‘To hell with the church.’ Another declared 
he had no time, while the third promised help, but 
did not keep his word. So my brother sawed the 
lumber and I put up the church.” 

“You certainly have reason to be proud of the work 
you and your brother have done, Mr. Eberhart,” re¬ 
marked the missionary, with approval. “No doubt 
God has blessed you in return.” 

“Yes, God has blessed us more than we deserved,” 
admitted Mr. Eberhart. “Joe and his wife are gone 
to heaven, while their children are among the most 
prosperous and devoted members of the community. 
My children are all living. Thank God, none of them 
married out of the Church. When they settled down 
I was able to give every one a home and a section of 
land. My wife and I have come to live in town near 
the church, and have plenty to live on. We often 
say if we had stayed in Chicago our children might 
have been corrupted and lost forever.” 

“And what became of the three families you found 
here?” asked the missionary. 

“They didn’t fare so well as time went on,” replied 
the old man. “The rich man who cursed the church, 
got tangled up in some litigation and eventually lost 
his property. He then hanged himself. One of his 
sons was shot in a saloon, and the other was lynched 
for a heinous crime. It is said his daughters became 
public women in La Crosse. His wife finally died in 
the poorhouse. The second man died without the 
priest. His children have lost the faith, and live in 


36 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


poverty. When the third man came to die he became 
unconscious before the priest arrived. His children 
are married to non-Catholics and come to church 
occasionally.” 

“Alas, I have seen those who work iniquity, and 
sow sorrows, and reap them,” quoted the missionary 
from the Book of Job. 


“TO HELL WITH THE MISSION” 

T^ATHER KELLY hired a conveyance and took 

the missionary to see the -, who were not 

attending church. Though the priests were fortunate 
in finding the family at home, they did not receive 
a cordial welcome. “It’s money you want,” replied 

Mr. - when the missionary invited him and his 

wife to attend the exercises. Like other avaricious 
families that never make any sacrifice to show their 

gratitude to God, the - were not as prosperous 

as their neighbors. 

“The Son of God came from heaven to save us from 
hell,” replied the missionary. “Your pastor gladly 
paid for this livery team that I might invite you to 
profit by the merits of the Saviour and escape the 
torments of the reprobate. We came to save your 

soul. If, like you, we were after money, Mr.-, 

we would not be priests of the crucified Master.” 

As the eternal welfare of his soul gave him little 

concern, Mr. - replied: “I am too old and too 

sickly to attend the mission, and my wife is in poor 
health, too.” 

“At least you and your wife can come to church 
some morning this week and receive the Sacraments,” 
urged the missionary. 

“I’ll make no rash promise of the kind,” replied Mr. 









ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


37 


-, and retreated into the remote part of the 

house. 

In the doorway sat a stalwart young man vigor¬ 
ously chewing tobacco. In his rudeness he had re¬ 
mained seated when the priests approached, and so 
prevented them from entering the house. “Father, 
this is Jack-,” remarked the pastor. 

“Jack, your parents are old and infirm,” said the 
missionary, kindly. “You are young and strong. 
Promise me you will make the mission. Come to 
the services tonight, and bring your parents to the 
Sacraments during the week.” 

Barely deigning to raise his eyes, Jack replied with 
a sneer: “To hell with the mission!” and spat a 
mouthful of tobacco juice towards the missionary. 

The following September the missionary returned 
to conduct the exercises in some of the neighboring 
parishes. As he was approaching his destination he 
noticed a young man give his seat to a woman who 
had entered, and start for the other coach. A moment 
later another woman, who sat facing the door, 

screamed, “Jack-has fallen off the train!” The 

missionary hastened to notify the conductor. Some 
time elapsed before the conductor was found. More 
time passed while he cross-questioned the woman who 
had witnessed the accident. In the meantime the train 
was speeding onward over the plains of Iowa. 

After much confusion and delay, the order was 
finally given for the train to return. Slowly it backed 
up, while men searched among the weeds and bushes 
by the wayside. The missionary recalled his chance 
acquaintance and resolved to do what he could for 

Jack-. Taking his holy oils he went to the rear 

platform of the train. At last he spied the body. In 
passing from one coach to the other Jack had paused 
to emit a mouthful of tobacco juice. A jolt of the train 
at that instant had caused him to lose his balance and 
plunge headforemost into space. Unfortunately he 






38 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


landed with his head on a rock and was instantly 
killed. When found his body was cold in death. 
Friends related that he had repeatedly expressed his 
sorrow for neglecting the mission in his home parish, 
and that he had gone to the city this day to buy a suit 
of clothes in which to make the next mission. 

“Pipor Jack!” remarked the missionary when he 
heard this. “Let us pray that God have mercy on his 

SOUl.” 


“GO TO DAN LOGUE AT ONCE” 


TpATHER O’HARA had spent a busy day, and 
planned to have a good night’s rest. He had re¬ 
cently come to-, la., and had found many 

things to absorb his zealous attention. Fatigued with 
the labors of the day, he retired at an early hour and 
soon was sound asleep. Suddenly he was aroused as 
though someone had touched him. “Go to Dan Logue 
at once!” he thought he heard a voice say, and so sat 
up in bed. After listening for a while, he concluded it 
was all a dream and composed himself for sleep again. 
“Go to Dan Logue at once!” the voice repeated, and 
Father O’Hara was wide awake. 

The new pastor had heard of Dan Logue, the owner 
of the brickyard on the outskirts of the town, but had 
not regarded him as a member of his flock. With a 
silent prayer to Our Lady for guidance in answering 
the unusual summons, he made a hasty preparation 
to minister the consolations of our faith to the dying 
man, and stepped out into the night. “Is that you 
Father O’Hara?” asked a man who drove up to the 
gate as the pastor passed through it. “I have come 
to bring you to Dan Logue at once.” “Thank you,” 
replied Father O’Hara as he seated himself in the 
buggy. “I was just on my way there. Make haste, 
and tell me about the sick man as we go.” 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


39 


Dan Logue had emigrated as a young man and 

eventually settled in-. Though he was a man 

of ability he had had no opportunity of attending 
school as a boy, and was too busy after coming to 
America to make up for this loss. On his way west¬ 
ward he learned to make brick, and used his knowl¬ 
edge to advantage when he arrived in Iowa. In a 
few years he thus became one of the leading men of 
his community. 

Though Dan Logue was a religious man he was 
ignorant of many of the laws and practices of his 
Church, and unfortunately felt an antipathy for 
Father Burns from their first meeting. There was no 
friction between them, however, until Dan Logue 
sought to make arrangements for the marriage of his 
daughter to take place on St. Patrick’s day. Father 
Burns informed his visitor that he did not solemnize 
marriages during the holy season of Lent, and un¬ 
happily added that those who remained in wilful 
ignorance of the laws of the Church might as well 
stay at home. From that day Dan Logue no longer 
assisted at Mass, though he encouraged his family 
to attend, but joined in the daily recitation of the 
Rosary and the Litany at home. 

During the twenty years that elapsed since the 
marriage of Biddle Logue, many changes took place 

in-. Dan Logue did not change, however, and 

was gradually regarded as a non-Catholic by all but 
the members of his family. Providence evidently made 
allowance for his ignorance, and was mindful of the 
daily prayer of Dan Logue in granting him the op¬ 
portunity of receiving the Sacraments at his death. 
For Father O’Hara asserted that if he had not been 
warned before the messenger came for him, he would 
not have been in time to hear Dan Logue’s confession, 
or minister the other blessings of our religion to the 
dying man. 




40 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


A SINGULAR CONVERSION 

T HE MISSION at St. Mary’s church,-, Ind., 

was well attended. To accommodate the faithful, 
chairs had to be placed in the aisles and even in the 
sanctuary. Wilbur Hopkins, president of the local 
branch of the Holy Name Society, and chief usher in 
the church, deserved much credit for making the mis¬ 
sion a success. For weeks before the exercises began, 
he invited negligent Catholics and well-disposed non- 
Catholics to make the mission. While introducing a 
prospective convert, Mr. Hopkins begged leave to 
present his wife to the missionary at some convenient 
hour. 

“Father, this is my wife, Mrs. Hopkins,” he said 
with pride when they called, “the one next to God to 
whom I owe the gift of the true faith.” “I am pleased 
to meet you, Mrs. Hopkins,” cordially said the mis¬ 
sionary, “but I must confess my surprise to learn that 
so zealous a man as your husband is a convert. May 
I ask how you brought about his conversion, Mrs. 
Hopkins?” “By pounding some sense into him with 
a broom!” she calmly replied, and then both husband 
and wife laughed like two happy children, while the 
missionary in his surprise looked from one to the 
other for an explanation. 

“Fannie, let me tell Father how it happened,” 
begged Mr. Hopkins, and proceeded to tell the story 
of his singular conversion. “Though my parents 
were respectable people,” he began, “they were not 
church members, and so permitted me to grow up in 
ignorance of God and of my obligations towards Him. 
Being obliged to work hard as a boy, I was saved from 
the temptations of youth but had occasion to learn 
much of the pitfalls of life before I became a young 
man. I therefore resolved to marry a pure, pious 
woman when I would settle down. Fannie was my 
ideal, and I was fortunate in winning her, for she 



ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


41 


has surpassed my expectations during the eighteen 
years we have lived together. Of course, I signed 
the necessary promises and we were married by the 
priest. In accordance with my promises I gave her a 
free hand in the practice of her religion and the 
education of the children for twelve years. During 
that time her exemplary conduct was a constant object 
lesson as well as a standing invitation for me to em¬ 
brace her religion. As I cherished my liberty, how¬ 
ever, I turned a deaf ear to the promptings of grace, 
and resolved to rebel against the order of things at 
the first opportunity. That opportunity presented it¬ 
self when Fannie was cleaning house six years ago. 
She had taken down the crucifixes and holy pictures 
for the cleaning and now begged me to help her in re¬ 
placing them. ‘We will put an end to this nonsense!’ 
I exclaimed with an air of decision I did not possess, 
and threw the crucifix she had handed me through 
an open window out upon the lawn. In her righteous 
indignation Fannie exclaimed, ‘You bone-head/ and 
seizing the broom hit me over the head with it until 
I begged her pardon and promised amendment. I was 
ashamed of my base and insincere conduct and re¬ 
solved then and there to become a Catholic. Fannie’s 
conduct on that occasion was sufficient evidence of 
the genuineness of her religion for me.” 


JOHNNIE’S ATONEMENT 

H'T'HE SUN of domestic happiness does not shine 
-*■ in homes where Christ and His Church are not 
loved,” remarked Father Hogan to the children of his 
catechism class one day. After school Johnnie 
Stephens called on his pastor and asked: “What can 
I do to make my home happy, Father? Papa never 
prays, but curses much around the house. Mama is 




42 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


much interested in shows and parties, but takes no in¬ 
terest in the Church. Both quarrel much, and seldom 
go to Mass with me on Sundays.” “You might try to 
make up for their negligence, Johnnie,” kindly replied 
the pastor, as he patted the boy on the head. “Say 
nothing to any one about it for the present,” he then 
added, “and after a while I will call on your parents.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Stephens were a restless couple. 
Though they possessed means, they were dissatisfied. 
Mr. Stephens was ambitious to make more money, 
while Mrs. Stephens spent it lavishly in scaling the 
social ladder. From the time they made the world 
their God they became so selfish that Johnnie was the 
only bond that held them together. As he was a deli¬ 
cate child, they sent him to the neighboring Catholic 
school, where the sisters were kind, and the children 
had the reputation of being more refined than at the 
public school. In religion Johnnie found something 
for which his heart craved. He was in his third year 
at school, and a member of the First Communion 
class. 

With a seriousness becoming a riper age, Johnnie 
acted on the suggestion of his pastor. After saying 
his own morning and night prayers, he repeated them 
for his father and mother, and never omitted the act 
of contrition for the faults they might have committed. 
Besides attending Mass on Sundays he began to hear 
Mass on week days to atone for the Masses his par¬ 
ents had neglected. As his parents were preoccupied 
in their own affairs they did not advert to Johnnie’s 
conduct until his mother missed him one morning. 
“Mama, I am praying for you and papa,” he explained, 
“and hope you will receive with me on my Com¬ 
munion day.” 

During the retreat in preparation for the happy 
event, Father Hogan again urged the children to in¬ 
vite the members of their families to receive with 
them. “Whatever favor you ask of Jesus at your First 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


43 


Communion you will surely receive/’ he said, “espe¬ 
cially if you offer Him something dear to yourselves 
in token of your appreciation.” When Johnnie invited 
his parents to receive with him, he was rudely told 
it would be enough if he prayed for them. With a 
heavy heart he, therefore, approached the altar and 
received his Lord and God. Having made a fervent 
act of love, he prayed: “Dearest Jesus, I beg for the 
conversion of my parents, and I offer my life in atone¬ 
ment for their sins.” 

Johnnie Stephens’ offering was accepted before his 
petition was granted. In a short time he became 
dangerously ill and was given up by the doctor. At 
the suggestion of his pastor the boy told his parents of 
the offering he had made of himself for their conver¬ 
sion. At this revelation his mother fell in a dead faint 
and his father stared at him in abject horror. “Dear¬ 
est Jesus,” he prayed with his dying breath, “teach 
papa and mama to love Thee and Thy Church so that 
the sun of happiness may ever shine in their home.” 
Though lonesome at times, Mr. and Mrs. Stephens 
have since found the happiness which the world had 
refused them. They are daily communicants today, 
and take pleasure in assisting Father Hogan in his 
works of zeal and charity. 


AN AMPLE APOLOGY 


HE BISHOP of a diocese found it advisable to 



J- make certain changes among the clergy. In one 
of the parishes Mr. McNichols, the mayor of the town, 
was a bosom friend of the pastor and a member of his 
church committee. When the changes were an¬ 
nounced the mayor thought his friend had been 
wronged and refused to permit the new pastor to hold 
services in the church. As most of the parishioners 


44 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


sided with the mayor, they remained without regular 
services for several years. 

At this stage the missionary was invited to estab¬ 
lish peace and harmony in the parish. He began his 
labors by sending a personal invitation to the heads 
of families, and thus succeeded in having a fair at¬ 
tendance at the opening of the mission. By kindness, 
tact, and personal sacrifice he then sought to clear up 
misunderstandings and to stimulate the sincerity and 
good will of his hearers. By the blessing of God and 
the co-operation of the parishioners the mission even¬ 
tually became so great a success that all Catholics 
within a radius of twenty-five miles approached the 
Sacraments. 

When the exercise came to a close, Mr. McNichols 
insisted on carrying the missionary’s suitcase to the 
train, while the rest of the parishioners followed them 
in procession. “Mr. McNichols, you have acted nobly 
during the mission,” remarked the missionary to the 
mayor as they proceeded towards the station, “and 
whatever wrong you may have done in the past you 
have rectified during this week.” “Thank you, 
Father,” replied the mayor, “there is great consolation 
in that assurance.” “As the Saviour said to the young 
man in the Gospel, however,” proceeded the mis¬ 
sionary, “ so I say to you, Mr. McNichols, one thing 
remains for you to do before you are a perfect Chris¬ 
tian.” 

Here the mayor paused and said with decision: 
“Name it, Father, and I will gladly do it.” “You told 
me how you treated the young priest who came here 
as a stranger to minister to the people,” continued the 
missionary. “I know you acted with a good intention 
in wronging him. He does not know, and like our¬ 
selves is human. Kindness will encourage him to 
sacrifice himself for his flock, while injustice may chill 
his zeal and cripple his usefulness in the ministry. 
Would it, therefore, be too much to tell him you are 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


45 


sorry when you meet him?” “I will gladly do that at 
the first opportunity, Father,” replied the mayor. 
“You will have that opportunity this morning,” con¬ 
cluded the missionary, “for I received a telegram from 
him an hour ago in which he said he hoped to meet me 
on this train.” 

When the train came to a stop the young priest 
alighted. “Father, shake hands with Mr. McNichols,” 
said the missionary, after greeting the young priest. 
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. McNichols,” said the 
young priest cordially, “and glad to hear you have 
had a fine mission.” “And I,” replied the mayor as he 
fell on his knees, “wish to beg your pardon for the 
way I treated you the first time you came to town, I 
am sorry, very sorry, Father, and in token of forgive¬ 
ness I ask you to make my home your home whenever 
you come again.” With tears coursing down his 
cheeks the young priest affectionately embraced the 
mayor and promised to call on him. The cheers of the 
people drowned the “All aboard!” of the conductor. 
“God bless you, Mr. McNichols,” said the missionary, 
as he warmly shook the mayor’s hand, “you have 
made this a most memorable day in my life.” 


THE BANSHEE 



FTER preaching a mission in a certain town of 


H Iowa, the missionary went into the country to 
minister the consolations of our holy religion to 
twenty-five families. In the pioneer days they had 
built a little church on an acre of ground and hoped 
it w'ould become the center of the community. As 
time went on. however, both the railroad and the state 
highway avoided the spot, and so St. Patrick’s church 
stands isolated to this day on a side road in the midst 
of a prosperous locality. On three sides, the little 




46 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


frame church is surrounded by stately evergreens, and 
in its shadow rest the mortal remains of the faithful 
who have died in the Lord. 

Having promised to keep the Blessed Sacrament in 
the church during the exercises, the missionary decided 
to sleep in the sacristy, for the nearest family lived 
a mile away. The very first night he was disturbed 
by a strange noise in the churchyard. “Ooh 1 Ooh! 
Ooh !'* a shrill voice cried. “Confound the screech- 
owl,” muttered the missionary. “Oh!” cried the voice 
in anguish, as though it came from one suffering an in¬ 
describable and irreparable loss. It chilled the mis¬ 
sionary to the heart. Dressing hastily, he went to the 
window from which the churchyard was visible. The 
sky was clear and a full moon poured its mellow light 
through the branches of the evergreens, and formed 
fantastic figures among the tombstones. 

As the voice repeated its heart-rending cry at regu¬ 
lar intervals the missionary had no difficulty in locat¬ 
ing it. In the stillness of the night he saw an object 
move. It was draped in black. It stood between two 
tombstones and swayed from side to side with the 
monstrous motion of a pendulum. Rooted to the spot 
by fear and held captive by the fascination it exercised 
over him, the missionary watched the phenomenon un¬ 
til the voice cried : “My God ! Mercy!” and the figure 
seemed to sink into the ground between the two white 
tombstones. 

Having said a De Profundis for the dead, whose re¬ 
mains rested in the churchyard, the missionary re¬ 
tired again and slept on until the sunlight streamed in 
through the open window. As the strange experience 
of the night demanded a solution, he went out to the 
tombstones to investigate at his earliest convenience, 
and he came back more mystified than ever. For the 
grass between the tombstones stood erect and undis¬ 
turbed. Evidently neither man nor beast had passed 
through it during the entire season. 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


47 


When the phenomenon was repeated, the mis¬ 
sionary resolved to investigate the following night. 
Under the plea of lonesomeness he induced two stal¬ 
wart farmers to keep him company. At the first sound 
of the voice the missionary aroused his companions 
and brought them to the window. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” 
repeated the voice. “The banshee! It is the ban¬ 
shee,” sobbed the men, as they fell on their knees, 
trembling from head to foot. Then and there they 
insisted on going to Confession. After a prayer be¬ 
fore the Blessed Sacrament the three went out to in¬ 
vestigate. As they advanced to the tombstones they 
saw the figure swaying some thirty feet beyond. 
Holding up his mission cross, the priest addressed the 
apparition and said: “In the name of God I command 
you to tell us what you want!” Instead of an answer 
there came a piercing cry as of a woman falling in a 
faint, and the figure fell on a newly-made grave. 
When the men picked her up and turned her face to 
the light, they recognized her and gasped: “It’s poor 
Biddie Moran, praying for her husband, who died a 
month ago.” 


A CONDUCTOR’S CONVERSION 

U 13RAYING again? I would like to know what 
JL you get out of prayer?” The priest looked up 
from his breviary and saw the conductor smiling 
pleasantly at his side. There were few passengers on 
the Transcontinental, and the stations in that section 
of the country were few and far between. With little 
to do, the conductor had repeatedly sought the priest’s 
company, and had now returned for a pleasant chat. 

“Every passenger in the immigrant car could an¬ 
swer that question,” replied the priest, as he closed his 
book and made room for the conductor. 

“Their company doesn’t appeal to me,” said the 




48 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


conductor, still smiling. “You have given me new 
ideas, and have been agreeable company, so I have 
begun to gravitate towards you whenever I have 
nothing to occupy my attention.” 

“Thank you for the compliment,” remarked the 
priest. “You have already solved your own difficulty,” 
he then added, as he smiled with satisfaction. “We 
pray, or associate with God, to receive new light and 
suggestion# from Him, to receive His help, and to 
profit by His company. You see, the very act of raising 
our minds and hearts to Him checks the perverse ten¬ 
dency of our lower nature and develops our nobler 
faculties. And besides, God loves us with a father’s 
love, and is not only anxious to help us but has 
solemnly promised to hear our prayers.” 

“I never thought of prayer in that way,” confessed 
the conductor. “I was not taught to pray as a child. 
Since then I have heard it said that prayer is soothing 
to nervous women and little children, but that men 
ought to be above such weakness. Thinking this the 
truth, I have made it the rule of my conduct. I am 
esteemed by my associates, try to do what is right by 
my family, and enjoy the fullest confidence of the of¬ 
ficials of the company. In fact, in the whole circle 
of my acquaintances, I know no man that prays. And 
here you are like a traveler from another world ad¬ 
vocating a theory that is unknown or ignored by the 
rank and file of the working men. How do you ac¬ 
count for it?” 

“Before we proceed to discuss the conduct of other 
men,” resumed the priest, “let me ask you a few per¬ 
sonal questions. May I take it for granted that you 
believe in a personal God and acknowledge your abso¬ 
lute dependence on His good pleasure?” The con¬ 
ductor nodded. “And are you willing to admit,” pro¬ 
ceeded the priest, “that this personal God not only 
knows all things, but understands what is best for 
each of us in particular? That in His goodness and 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


49 


mercy He is most anxious to promote the temporal 
and eternal welfare of every one? Do you admit that 
as His creature you have an inborn obligation to adore 
and to thank Him, to obey Him and to make reparation 
for disobeying Him, to promote His glory and to ask His 
help in doing so? Do you realize that at the moment of 
death you must appear before Him in judgment, and be 
found worthy either of eternal happiness or of eternal 
misery?’ * 

“Go easy, please,” pleaded the conductor. “You 
are not only rushing me into new realms of thought, 
but make me realize that my conduct in the sight of 
God has a very vital bearing on my personal hap¬ 
piness. Viewed in that light I see that prayer is both 
beneficial and necessary. But it makes a man feel 
small. It goes against the tendency of human nature, 
and is calculated to rob a man of his self-reliance and 
efficiency. And besides, as I remarked before, I know 
of no man that prays.” 

“Do you know Jim Trahey, the engineer of the 
Coast Limited? He told me he never starts on a run 
without kneeling in his cab first to ask the protection 
of Providence, and has an image of his crucified 
Saviour sewed in the glove of his right hand so that 
the God-Man may aid him run his train in safety. 
And there is Bob Worthington, who makes the night 
run through here. I noticed that he kept his hand in his 
coat pocket when he was not punching tickets and 
asked him whether he had hurt his hand. He quieted 
my fears by showing me the rosary he was quietly 
praying. My dear sir, prayer corrects the perverse 
tendency of corrupt human nature, cures us of our 
pride and self-complacency, makes us realize our own 
limitations, and prompts us to put our trust in God’s 
assistance.” 

“Why, the men you mentioned are the heads of their 
respective brotherhoods,” remarked the conductor 


50 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


with enthusiasm. “I see I have been mistaken. Teach 
me to pray, will you?” 

“I will do more,” replied the priest. “I will make a 
Catholic out of you, and give you a first-class ticket 
to heaven. It’s a pleasure to meet an honest man like 


you. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 
APTAIN GILCHRIST is known as a gruff old 



seadog. During the past forty years he crossed 
the waters of every ocean and entered every port. He 
has made it a rule of his life to arrive and to depart 
on time, to transact the company’s business faith¬ 
fully, to be fair with his men, to keep his own counsel, 
and to let others manage their own affairs. In conse¬ 
quence, he was esteemed by his superiors and loved 
by his men, but was regarded as studiously reserved 
by some, who surmised that he sought to forget or 
to conceal a chapter of his earlier life. 

The Samona was a day out from Sydney, evenly 
plowing her way through a calm sea, en route for San 
Francisco, and Captain Gilchrist was on her foredeck, 
surveying the horizon, when a dapper young man ap¬ 
proached him and said: “We are a long way from 
dear old St. Louis, captain, and I would give one hun¬ 
dred dollars to be there today.” “Why the homesick¬ 
ness for St. Louis, son?” inquired Captain Gilchrist 
as he surveyed his visitor leisurely. “Four reasons,” 
replied the other laughing, “ a darling wife and three 
affectionate kiddies!” “Congratulations,” said the 
captain, as he shook the man’s hand. “Long ago I 
dreamed of just such scenes in St. Louis,” he went 
on to confess, to his own surprise, “but they were 
never realized, because the girl I loved proved false to 
me by going out with another, when she was engaged 
to me.” “Are you from St Louis, too?” exclaimed 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


51 


the young man. “I am Frank Tully, agent for the 
International Harvester Company. Captain, this is 
the anniversary of my wedding. Can you forget your 
old sore long enough to help me celebrate by having 
dinner with me?” 

Thus it happened that Captain Gilchrist surprised 
the crew of the Samona by dining with Mr. Tully. 
But, as this happened repeatedly afterwards, they 
finally concluded that Mr. Tully must be some close 
relative of the captain. Upon closer acquaintance, the 
two men found they held many recollections in com¬ 
mon. Both grew up in St. Bridget’s parish. Both 
were graduates from the Christian Brothers’ college. 
Both played ball, swam, hunted and skated in the 
same places, as boys. The captain, especially, had 
many questions to ask, and was surprised to learn how 
the city had expanded and grown westward. But 
there was one person, still vividly enshrined in his 
recollections, about whom he did not venture to in¬ 
quire, though he censured himself now for con¬ 
demning her on the word of another, and for depart¬ 
ing from the city without leaving any clue behind. 

The Samona was scheduled to stop forty-eight 
hours at Hawaii, and arrived about noon on Friday. 
Among the first to go on shore was Mr. Tully. He 
had formed the habit in his youth of visiting the 
Blessed Sacrament daily, and had kept up this beauti¬ 
ful practice inculcated by Brother Justin. In fact, he 
was convinced by experience that daily Mass, frequent 
Communion, and these daily visits contributed much 
to that well balanced character which the officials 
of his company prized in him. Upon landing in a 
strange town, therefore, Mr. Tully made it a rule 
to inquire at his earliest opportunity for the nearest 
Catholic church, to visit the Blessed Sacrament and 
to pray the rosary. 

While the rest of the passengers were still asleep, 
Mr. Tully again left the boat on Saturday morning, 


52 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


and returned in time for breakfast. “Good morning, 
Mr. Tullv, where have you been so early?” asked Cap¬ 
tain Gilchrist, as he saw his friend come up the gang¬ 
way. “I assisted at Mass and received Communion, 
captain,” explained Mr. Tully, in a matter of fact way. 
“I beg your pardon for not inviting you to come with 
me,” he added, when he saw the startled look of the 
captain. The grizzly face of the captain was contract¬ 
ed into a frown before he replied, “I haven’t been to 
church or to the Sacraments since I left St. Louis, I 
am ashamed to confess. But I have been thinking, 
since I met you, that I would take a vacation when 
we reach port and find out what became of my old 
sweetheart, Kittie Brady.” As Mr. Tully now stared 
at him in utter astonishment, the captain eagerly in¬ 
quired: “Do you know her?” “Indeed I do,” re¬ 
plied Mr. Tully, smiling, “she is my wife’s maiden 
aunt, and became a mother to her when her own 
mother died. She told us that she met the man of 
her choice many years ago, was true to him, but had 
lost sight of him unexpectedly. I will introduce you 
to her in due time,” he then added, with a mischievous 
twinkle in his eye, “provided you go to confession 
this afternoon, and to Holy Communion tomorrow.” 
“It’s a bargain,” exclaimed the captain, as they shook 
hands and went in to breakfast. 


HER MOTHER’S MIRROR 

COME years ago Mary Mildred Moore entered a 
Catholic academy as a boarder. Endowed by na¬ 
ture with a good constitution and pleasant features, she 
had always been considered a beautiful child. 
Through the vigilance and piety of her mother, how¬ 
ever, Mary Mildred never discovered this fact until 
she was sixteen years of age. At home she had been 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


53 


assistant housekeeper, and learned the art of domes¬ 
tic economy under the loving supervision of a sen¬ 
sible, Catholic mother. Was there ever a girl proud 
of the shapely hands that washed the dishes three 
times a day? Or vain about her looks when her face 
was covered with healthy perspiration as she stood at 
the washtub, or scrubbed the floor on her knees? And 
both these exercises were emphasized in the course 
of calisthenics in Mary Mildred’s home. 

Besides being blessed with sensible parents, Mary 
Mildred had the good fortune of being reared in a 
thoroughly Catholic atmosphere. When she was two 
years old she had already learned to bless herself and 
to lisp the “Hail Mary,” and, by means of the cru¬ 
cifix and the holy pictures that adorned the walls of 
her home, she was taught the chief mysteries of her 
religion and imbued with a spirit of faith before she 
arrived at the use of reason. As she was bom 
in a non-Catholic community, Mary Mildred had not 
the advantages of a parochial school education, but 
her mother sought to supply this defect by her vigil¬ 
ance, her precept, and especially by her example, un¬ 
til she could send her children to a convent school. 

Mary Mildred’s departure for the academy was a 
source of great joy to her mother. In her simple 
piety this good woman not only felt confident the 
good sisters would keep her child from all evil in¬ 
fluences, but would make of her a valiant woman that 
would rival the one depicted in the Sacred Scriptures. 
At the academy Mary Mildred soon discovered to her 
surprise that the discipline was milder than in her 
home, that the good sisters could be imposed upon 
far easier than her mother, and that only a few of 
the girls were imbued with a spirit of faith, and that 
some of them had no religion whatever. 

Having survived her spell of homesickness and be¬ 
come acquainted with the good sisters and her com¬ 
panions, Mary Mildred felt at home in the academy, 


and soon began to grow plump as a squab and to 
bloom like an American beauty. But only after her 
companions publicly admired her looks and enume¬ 
rated her charms, did Mary Mildred consider her 
beauty as her own and not as a natural gift of God. 
Desirous, therefore, of admiring herself at her leisure, 
she begged her mother to send her a tiny pocket 
mirror in her Christmas box. 

In due time Mary Mildred received a large box filled 
with various useful articles. In the middle of the box 
she found three small boxes, each securely tied and 
inscribed in her mother’s handwriting. On the first 
she read: “This will show you what you seem to be.” 
Hastily she opened it and to her disgust found that it 
contained a mirror twice the size of her hand. After 
pouting in silence for a few moments, Mary Mildred 
took up the mirror and leisurely admired herself as 
reflected on its surface. Reassured, she now took up 
the second box. On it her mother had written: “This 
will show you what you will be.” In vain Mary Mil¬ 
dred tried to guess what it might contain. Upon 
opening it and removing the wrapping paper she 
held an ivory paperweight in her hands that had been 
carved artistically into a miniature skull and cross- 
bones. This symbol of death gave her so severe a 
shock that she wept bitterly, and prayed to our Lady 
to protect her from the vanities of the world. 

After finally drying her tears, she took up the third 
box in a spirit of resignation and read: “This will 
show you what you ought to be.” With a sigh and 
some misgivings Mary Mildred opened it and to her 
delight found a little statue of our Lady. This she 
hugged and kissed with childish delight. When she 
eventually recovered her senses, Mary Mildred realized 
that her dear mother had discovered her evil tendency 
and made use of these means to teach her a salutary 
lesson. On her knees she then thanked God for having 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


55 


given her so good a mother, and resolved to keep this 
Christmas present constantly before her eyes. Later 
on she had reason to thank God for having preserved 
her from the vanity and flattery of a foolish world, 
which she first encountered within the hallowed pre¬ 
cincts of convent walls. 


A PROFESSION OF FAITH 

IV yT ARGARET REDMOND, the stenographer, en- 
tered the office a little later than usual on Ash 
Wednesday morning. A titter went around, when, on 
taking off her hat, the clerks caught a glimpse of her 
forehead. There, startlingly prominent, because of 
the clear and sanitary whiteness of her skin, was a 
blotch of soot or ashes. Van Seever, the general 
secretary, was fond of her and anxious to spare her 
feelings. Not venturing to speak of her blemish, he 
gazed at her to attract her attention, and then rubbed 
his own forehead vigorously. Margaret smiled, and 
her eyes danced merrily as she said aloud: “I know 
all about it, Mr. Van Seever. These are the blessed 
ashes I received at church this morning.” 

Van Seever stared at Margaret in bewilderment, 
while the silence in the office served as a general 
question. “Why, this is Ash Wednesday, the begin¬ 
ning of the holy season of Lent,” said Margaret, “the 
day on which we Catholics receive these ashes to 
remind us that we are dust and unto dust we must 
return.” “What a beautiful ceremony,” stammered 
Van Seever, as he stared at her blankly for a moment, 
and then turned to look out of the window. 

As he stood there Van Seever shuddered with hor¬ 
ror at the thought that a sane, accomplished and lovely 
woman of twenty-two could take pleasure in the 




56 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


thought that she was “dust, and unto dust must needs 
return.” “What moral courage she must possess,” 
he said to himself, “to stand thus by her own grave, 
and in spirit to look with complacency on the fact that 
her pretty, rounded form, her smiling red lips, her 
dimpled hands, her smooth cheeks, her large blue eyes 
are turning into dust!” “What power,” he asked 
himself, “can make her so indifferent to the views of 
ordinary mortals, that she takes pleasure in the 
thought of bidding farewell to this glorious world and 
all the things she holds most dear?” 

Van Seever had received a godless education in his 
youth, and had always lived too busy a life to become 
the slave of vice. By his talent, efficiency and capacity 
for work he had mastered the insurance business and 
improved the methods of handling the business in the 
Denver office of the International Insurance Company. 
In his ambition for material promotion he had given 
little attention to his spiritual development, though he 
admitted the necessity of religion for man’s ultimate 
happiness. Among the church members that he had 
thus far met, he had found none that possessed a 
spiritual power superior to the human. So Margaret 
Redmond was a revelation to him. 

“I must admit the supernatural in her conduct,” he 
finally confessed. “She takes a divine, an eternal 
view of life, and in her Church somehow not only 
finds the means to rise to a superior level, but to live 
there with the heedless indifference of a loving child. 
And if that is so, then her Church must be divine, 
Christ, her Founder, must be divine, and it is my duty 
in the sight of God to use her means to live a divine 
life. Yes, Margaret Redmond is my motive of cred¬ 
ibility. I believe what she believes, because God has 
revealed it in her life, and He, the Truth, cannot 
deceive.” “I believe! Lord,” he added humbly as he 
struggled with his feelings, “help Thou my unbelief.” 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


5 7 


A VOLUNTEER, OR A WIFE’S 
INFLUENCE 

A T the National Soldiers’ home in southern Calif- 
ornia, Gen. Silas Jewell is revered and loved by 
all the men. The general was born in a cabin on the 
western frontier seventy-six years ago, and grew up 
without any knowledge of God or religion. At the 
outbreak of the Civil war he volunteered as a private, 
and distinguished himself on many a battlefield. The 
authorities recognized the ability and valor of Private 
Jewell, and rewarded his gallant services by repeatedly 
promoting him, so that he was mustered out as a 
division general of the volunteer forces. 

After his return to private life the general had an 
opportunity of studying the true faith. With his usual 
generosity he embraced the truth and became, as he 
expresses it, a volunteer in the service of the Lord. 
Upon the death of his wife the general’s object in life 
was to give his son a thorough education, and when 
this was accomplished he became an inmate of “the 
home.” Even here the sterling qualities of the volun¬ 
teer of the Lord were soon recognized, and he rapidly 
rose in the esteem and affection of his comrades. By 
universal consent General Jewell is today acknowl¬ 
edged to be the model of the faithful, the information 
bureau of the Church for all striving after the better 
things, and the sympathetic friend of all his comrades. 

This “volunteer of the Lord” attracted my attention 
on the first day of a mission I recently preached in the 
home, as I had ample time to study his conduct. Be¬ 
fore the whistle blew at half past five in the morning, 
the general, with several devoted comrades, did sen¬ 
tinel duty before the chapel door. Even before the 
lights were on, they saluted the Master in the taber¬ 
nacle. The general was absorbed in his devotions 
during the sacrifice of the Mass, and daily received 


Holy Communion. Not only was he present at every 
exercise of the mission, but also spent the greater 
part of the day in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. 
He was modest in his manner, thoughtful and kind 
towards every one, and seemed to have learned from 
the Master to be meek and humble of heart. 

My desire to study the general more closely was 
gratified one morning as I met him picking flowers for 
the altar. When I greeted him according to his age 
and merit, the old gentleman became confused and 
expostulated with me, saying: “Father, the men think 
I am better than I am. I am a great sinner. And I 
don’t understand how God could be so good to me, 
or why my comrades are so kind to me.” “Were you 
born here?” I inquired. “I was born and grew up 
among the cattle on the plains of Kansas,” he replied, 
and proceeded to give me some idea of the hardships 
of pioneer life. He concluded by stating that when 
the Union was in danger he volunteered his services 
and fought throughout the Civil War. 

“General, were you ever married?” I then asked. 
“Shortly after 1 had been mustered out of service,” he 
resumed somewhat bashfully. “I met a modest little 
girl that attracted me very much. I had several skir¬ 
mishes with her parents before I succeeded in speaking 
to her. She told me she was a Catholic and would 
marry no one but a Catholic. Observing my ignorance 
she proceeded to tell me of the infinite goodness of 
God and of our obligation to know and serve Him. 
She then explained how the Son of God became man 
to save us from the slavery of hell. I remarked that 
I would not have done that for the slaves of the South, 
and then and there volunteered for His service. When 
the priest came again to the settlement he baptized 
me, and we were married. 

“Agnes often protested that she was ignorant of 
many things, but I haven’t begun to practise half the 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


59 


things she taught me by her example. She was more 
than a guardian angel to me, father, but too good for 
a cowboy like me, and so the Lord took her to heaven. 
Though I miss her more and more as time goes on, I 
daily thank God for entrusting me to her influence for 
a few short years. She left me a baby boy with his 
mother’s amiable disposition. He is now a Jesuit 
missionary among the Indians of Alaska. I feel I 
haven’t long to live. I daily volunteer in the Lord’s 
service, as Agnes taught me, and try to do my bit to 
make Him known and loved, but I am a great sinner, 
and unfit for heaven. That is why I come to the 
chapel to coax our Lord and His blessed Mother in 
Their mercy to forgive the faults of all the men here, 
and to find a little place in heaven for me because 
I am dying to see Them and Agnes. Do you think I 
have a chance?” 

“I assure you in the name of God that you have,” 
I replied, as I moved on, feeling ashamed of myself in 
his presence. 


THE MIRACULOUS MEDAL AND 
OUIJA 

D URING the war a number of Denver men met 
frequently at the home of an apostate Catholic 
to obtain uncensored news by means of the Ouija 
board. In the beginning their efforts met with indif¬ 
ferent success. As time went on, however, and the men 
surrendered themselves more and more to its influence, 
Ouija became more and more loquacious and even 
made some startling revelations. 

A very important session was scheduled for Christ¬ 
mas night. On the preceding day the apostate’s only 




60 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


child, a girl sixteen years old, whose name is Elsie, 
returned to the city for her Christmas vacation. Even 
though Elsie’s mother was negligent in the practice 
of her religion, she had insisted on giving her daughter 
a Catholic education, and as she herself, when a girl, 
had attended a school conducted by the Ursuline 
sisters, she had prevailed on her husband to send 
Elsie to the Ursuline academy of a neighboring state. 

Instead of giving a prominent place on their curricu¬ 
lum to the branches that puff up the mind, but have 
no practical value for time or eternity, the good sisters 
of the institution emphasized the theory and practice 
of religion as the important branch taught in their 
institution. Elsie entered into the spirit of the insti¬ 
tution upon her admission, grew in it day by day 
during the six years she spent with the good sisters, 
and had become the idol of her teachers and associates. 

When the men assembled as usual on Christmas 
night, Elsie accompanied her mother to the session, 
imagining in her simplicity that she was going to help 
mamma entertain papa’s friends. To the surprise and 
disappointment of the manipulators, Ouija seemed 
paralyzed, for it made no move to answer the various 
questions prepared for its solution. 

Finally, after much coaxing, some prodding and a 
few muttered imprecations to the men, ouija began 
to reply to the oft repeated question: “Why don’t you 
answer?” For the tripod creaked, moved aimlessly 
about for a while, and then laboriously spelt this 
answer: “T-h-e w-o-m-a-n w-o-n-’-t 1-e-t m-e.” 

The men looked defiantly about the room for the 
culprit. Mother and daughter were the only women 
visible. The mother had thus far been only a spec¬ 
tator, but had repeatedly taken part in previous ses¬ 
sions ; thus all eyes were soon focused on the daughter 
for an explanation. All the while Elsie stared vacantly 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


61 


at the assembly in her bewilderment. The mother was 
the first to solve the mystery. She thought of the 
miraculous medal, which her daughter always wore 
suspended from a tiny chain around her neck, and 
exclaimed: “Elsie, it is your sodality medal,” as she 
pointed it out to the men. “Take it off instantly!” 
commanded her father, and Elsie rushed from the 
room. 

As soon as the girl had departed the men resumed 
their session. Ouija seemed to have recovered its 
wits instantly. It promptly answered every question 
and even volunteered much additional information. 
The men were too absorbed in their communications 
to notice Elsie’s return as she tiptoed to the center of 
the room. Her lips were set, her eyes flashed, and 
two pink spots glowed on her pale cheeks as she 
entered. Just as her mother smiled her approval on 
her daughter for removing the objectionable medal, 
Elsie withdrew her right hand from behind her slender 
form, and raised a bottle of holy water above the 
circle. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
and of the Holy Ghost, begone Satan!” she said with 
decision, as she liberally sprinkled the Ouija board and 
the assembled men with the blessed fluid. 

In an instant confusion reigned supreme in the 
assembly. The surprise of the first moment gave way 
to fear when the simple exorcism of the pious girl was 
followed by a cracking noise on the table around 
which the session was held. When the men recovered 
from the shock they found that the tripod had crum¬ 
pled into bits under their hands, and that the Ouija 
board was split into kindling wood. “That settles me 
and Ouija,” remarked Elsie’s father with determina¬ 
tion. “You gentlemen may do as you like; but I am 
going to make my peace with God before the New 
Year.” 


62 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


SEALED DIRECTIONS 

1\ T ARY BROWN was a young woman of twenty- 
one. In a spirit of faith and generosity she had 
followed the directions of her confessor since her 
childhood days. At home she had become indis¬ 
pensable to her mother, and in the parish she was 
universally esteemed for her modesty, charity and 
genuine piety. Mary had thus far been so perfectly 
content with her lot that she heartily detested “the 
world” without ever coming into actual contact with 
it. It was at this stage that the first serious tempta¬ 
tion entered into her uneventful life. 

As she was leaving the church one fine summer 
morning, Miss Brown met Myrtle White, a sodality 
member, and was invited to accompany her and her 
mother on a picnic for the day. “We have room for 
one in the auto,” explained Myrtle, “and will leave in 
one hour. ’Phone as soon as you have asked your 
mother, and we will call on the way and pick you up.” 
Strange as it may seem, Mary had been so completely 
a home girl that she had never been in an automobile, 
or been at a picnic. She was delighted with the 
invitation and easily obtained her mother’s consent. 
On the way Miss Brown shared the front seat with 
Bob White, a handsome, charming young man of 
twenty-five, but unfortunately a grass-widower, whose 
adventurous young wife had eloped with another man. 

Under the influence of Bob White’s ready wit and 
genuine kindness, Mary soon lost her reserve and 
thoroughly enjoyed the outing. While in Bob’s com¬ 
pany, an indefinable sweetness seemed to ravish her 
heart that caused her to linger in his presence. It 
gave her a new and fascinating view of life. Bob 
experienced the same sensation, and soon began to 
contrast the designing ways of the woman he had 
married with the charming qualities of Miss Brown. 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


63 


He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he ex¬ 
pressed them to Mary when the opportunity presented 
itself. Though confused in mind, Mary was sym¬ 
pathetic and replied that she could not understand how 
any woman could treat Bob as his wife had done. 

From the day of the picnic, Mary Brown was a 
changed woman. Instead of praying her Rosary, she 
retired thinking of “poor Bob.” Though she still 
attended Mass, she abstained from receiving Holy 
Communion, and spent much of her time in church in 
observing how other women were dressed. As the 
days passed by, Mary and Bob drifted closer and 
closer together. Mary turned a deaf ear to the remon- 
strations of her parents, and maintained that their 
meeting was brought about by some mysterious dis¬ 
pensation of Providence. 

When the remote preparations for their marriage 
had been made, Mary called on her confessor one day 
to acquaint him with her intentions. The priest 
listened patiently to Mary until she had finished. With 
a sigh, he then wrote something on a sheet of paper, 
enclosed it in an envelope, sealed it and handed it to 
Mary, saying: “Go once more to the shrine of Our 
Lady of Perpetual Help, where you have often prayed 
with childlike devotion, there read this note word 
for word, and then you may do what you please.” 

With a heavy heart, Mary did as directed. She knelt 
before the image of Our Lady and read the following 
words: “My dear mother Mary, I have come to bid 
thee and thy Son farewell forever. I have decided to 
damn my immortal soul by living a life of adultery. 
Before I depart, I wish to thank thee for the affection 
and the graces thou hast lavished upon me in the past. 
And in conclusion, I beg that my name be stricken 
from the Book of Life.” 

These words pierced Mary’s innermost soul. By the 
help of Our Lady she saw the horrible delusion into 


64 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


which Satan had led her, and began to weep bitterly. 
“No! no! dear Mother,” she exclaimed, “I cannot leave 
thee! I must not crucify thy Son! I do not wish to 
damn my immortal soul! Do not blot my name out of 
the Book of Life! A thousand times rather do I re¬ 
nounce this man forever. Help me to control my heart, 
to do penance for my sins and repair the scandal I have 
given, and 1 will consecrate myself to thy service 
forever.” 


HIS MOTHER’S ROSARY 



ENERAL ALPHONS DEMERE was killed in 


the battle of Verdun. He was the only son of a 
pious mother, who died when the general was a boy. 
Among the devout practices she taught him as a child, 
was a love for the Devotion of the Rosary, which she 
performed daily with him. On her deathbed the 
mother gave her rosary beads to her son, and said: 
“Alphons, treasure these beads as the most precious 
keepsake of your loving mother, and continue to recite 
them daily!” Sobbing with emotion, the boy prom¬ 
ised, affectionately kissed his mother, and received 
her parting blessing. 

Unfortunately, Alphons kept only half of his 
promise. As he grew up, he entered a military school 
to prepare himself for his chosen profession. Under 
infidel professors and among indifferent associates, 
he grew negligent in his religious practices, and 
gradually dropped them entirely. Throughout his life, 
however, Alphons treasured the remembrance of his 
mother, and always carried her rosary beads on his 
person. And in answer to her prayer, or through the 
special protection of our Lady, whom he had served in 
the days of his youth, he always abstained from the 
dissipation of his comrades. 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 65 

% 

When the war broke out, the talents, and bravery of 
Alphons were given ample scope for development. 
Having repeatedly distinguished himself, he was 
rapidly promoted and became general of a division 
at the age of twenty-three. In the terrific assaults 
on Verdun, General Demere was ordered to lead a 
counter attack and recover an advantageous position. 
While the artillery was preparing the way, the general 
spread out his blanket to secure a little needed rest. 
As he lay on the ground, he chanced to put his hand 
into his pocket. To his surprise, his fingers touched 
and drew forth his mother’s rosary beads. 

Instead of sleeping, the general now thought of his 
mother and of the scenes of his childhood days, until 
his whole life passed as a panorama before his mental 
vision. When he recalled the days on which he used 
to kneel in prayer with his mother, he became thor¬ 
oughly ashamed of himself for having neglected to 
fulfill her dying request. '‘You were happier then than 
you are now,” he said to himself. “My, how you have 
changed ! What may your mother in heaven be think¬ 
ing of you?” The thought that most tormented him 
arose from the fact that he, who prided himself on 
being a man of honor, had broken his promise to his 
dying mother. Tormented with remorse, he sought to 
make amends by kneeling and trying to pray the 
Rosary. 

It was thus the chaplain found the general as he 
made the rounds of the trench to minister to the men. 
“Do you wish to go to confession, General?” he asked 
when he saw the commander kneeling in prayer. “It 
is impossible for me to make my confession now, 
Father,” replied the general with emotion, “but I will 
go just as soon as we have finished this attack.” With 
the aid and encouragement of the zealous chaplain, 
however, the general made a sincere confession of his 
entire life. He kissed his beads again and again, and 


66 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


humbly thanked God for the grace he had so unex¬ 
pectedly received. 

When the signal was given to advance, the general 
led his men to the attack with an enthusiasm that was 
contagious. Irresistibly the French bore down the 
spirited and tenacious opposition of the Germans as 
they advanced far beyond the crest of the hill and 
secured the lost position. But their valiant leader fell, 
a victim of the deadly fire of the enemy. After the 
engagement his followers found General Demere’s 
body, his left hand still clasping his mother’s rosary 
beads to his breast. 


OUR LADY CONVERTS AN APOSTATE 

E IGHTEEN years ago an old man took sick in 
Denver who had apostatized from the Faith as 
a young man. Perhaps on account of the violence that 
he had to exercise in stifling the remorse of his con¬ 
science, he had grown to hate the religion of his youth. 
He certainly detested everything connected with its 
practice. Fortunately, his housekeeper was a devout 
Catholic, who was much concerned about his spiritual 
condition. When the doctor informed her of the 
serious condition of his patient, she hastened to inform 
a priest of the old man’s condition and urge him to do 
what he could to prepare him for eternity. 

“What do YOU want here?” impatiently demanded 
the old man as the priest entered the sick room. “Oh, 
I heard you were not well,” kindly replied the priest, 
“and so dropped in to see you. To visit the sick, you 
know, is an act of charity.” Reluctantly the old man 
then invited the priest to be seated. But when the 
latter suggested the reception of the Sacraments, the 
old man indignantly replied: “I don’t want to hear 
anything about them, and I beg you not to bother me 
in the future.” 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


67 


“I can do nothing with him now,” sadly remarked 
the priest to the housekeeper, “but I will offer the 
Sacrifice of Mass for his conversion in the morning, 
and I wish you would say the rosary for the same 
intention.” “I have been doing that,” replied the 
housekeeper, “and I will let you know if there is any 
change.” 

Towards the end of the week the good woman ap¬ 
peared again at the rectory, her face radiant with 
happiness. “Come quickly, Father,” she exclaimed, 
as the priest appeared, “he has asked for you!” 

The old man now welcomed the priest with evident 
signs of pleasure. “Thank God you have come!” he 
said as he raised his feeble hands. “I have lived 
through an awful night. Even last evening I was 
determined not to receive the Sacraments. About 11 
o’clock I fell asleep; and in my sleep I distinctly saw 
the Mother of God, with the Infant in her arms, stand¬ 
ing above my bed. She shook her finger at me and 
cast a glance of reproach upon me that pierced my 
inmost soul, as if she meant to say: ‘Receive the 
Sacraments as soon as possible, for it will soon be too 
late!’ I awoke, trembling in every limb . . . O, Father, 
please help me make a good confession.” 

Needless to say, the old man was sincerely con¬ 
verted, and died with sentiments of gratitude towards 
the Mother of Mercy, who had thus changed his heart 
before he appeared before the judgment-seat of God. 


“HAVE MY CHILD BAPTIZED” 

GEORGE, don’t disgrace us and run the risk 
of losing your own soul by entering a mixed 
marriage,” vainly pleaded Mrs. Shields with her son. 
“Who will bring up your children Catholics, as I have 




68 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


brought you up?” The Shields family lived on a farm 
and was classed among the representative Catholic 
ones of their locality. In spite of the opposition of 
his family, George was eventually married by the 
priest and made his home with his wife’s parents. 
When a child was born George put off its baptism on 
account of opposition from his mother-in-law, and 
then succumbed to an attack of pneumonia. Before he 
breathed his last, however, he had his wife promise to 
bring the child up Catholic. 

About six months after the death of George Shields, 
his pastor, Father O’Neil, attended the semi-annual 
conference of the clergy. Though a zealous priest, 
Father O’Neil was known as a wag among his clerical 
friends, who was bound to joke even on the most 
solemn occasions. At the conference he had been 
appointed to criticize a paper written by a brother 
priest on “The Influence of the Spirit World.” The 
paper treated the subject from a Catholic standpoint, 
but concluded by citing the reports of various appari¬ 
tions of departed souls. This gave Father O’Neil the 
opportunity of belittling the paper by classing the 
reports as fairy tales. In a spirit of mischief he then 
went so far as to question even the possibility of such 
apparitions. 

When he returned from the conference Father 
O’Neil found an urgent sick call awaiting him. He 
was requested to come at once to the widow of George 
Shields. Knowing her to be a matter-of-fact woman 
he was surprised to find her in a state of great nervous 
excitement. In answer to his inquiry about the nature 
of her trouble she informed him that her husband had 
repeatedly appeared to her. At first Father O’Neil 
suspected his clerical friends of perpetrating a prac¬ 
tical joke on him. As this seemed impossible under 
the circumstances, however, he accused the woman of 
hallucination. But Mrs. Shields adhered to her state- 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


69 


ment, and said : “Why, Father, he is standing here by 
my bed this minute!” 

By this time Father O’Neil was in earnest. “Com¬ 
mand him in the name of God to say what he wants,” 
he suggested. “Have my child baptized and brought 
up Catholic as you promised,” the spirit replied in 
answer to his wife’s command. As the priest was still 
skeptical, he prompted Mrs. Shields to say: “In the 
name of God I command you to leave a sign by which 
we may know that you have really been here!” The 
young widow had hardly given this command in the 
presence of her parents and Father O’Neil when she 
uttered a cry of pain. “Oh, my cheek! My cheek!” she 
exclaimed. To the surprise of all, the imprint of her 
husband’s right hand, on which the index finger was 
missing, was indelibly burnt into her skin. 

At the next conference of the clergy Father O’Neil 
publicly begged pardon for the scandal he might have 
given by his flippant remarks at their previous meet¬ 
ing, and then related the apparition of George Shields. 
He also stated that Mrs. Shields not only had the child 
baptized in compliance with her ante-nuptial promises 
and the request of her deceased husband, but had also 
taken instruction and joined the Church herself. “I 
have reason to hope,” he added, “that her father and 
mother will eventually follow her example.” 


“I BELONG TO THE SACRED HEART” 

M ARY KEHOE had never thought of choosing 
another state in life than to serve God as a 
Sister of Charity. One obstacle prevented her from 
following her cherished desire. She was the only sup¬ 
port of her mother. When she returned from work 
one day she found a visitor in the house. John Shields, 
an old schoolmate, the son of her mother’s bosom 




70 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


friend, had returned to the home of his childhood in 
search of a wife. The mothers had planned for the 
welfare of their children without consulting Mary in 
the matter. When she finally became aware of the 
object of Mr. Shield’s visit, Mary called on her con¬ 
fessor and placed the matter before him. After listen¬ 
ing to her with paternal sympathy, her confessor 
replied with deliberation, “My child, if God had des¬ 
tined you for the convent, he would not have burdened 
you with the responsibility of providing- for your 
mother. Marry this man. Pray that God may bless 
you with children who will do more for His glory than 
you alone could do.” 

As Mary Kehoe, had always followed the direction 
of her confessor in a spirit of child-like faith, she now 
went to the church to pray for strength to give up her 
personal preference and to embrace this other state 
in a worthy manner. “If God blesses me with chil¬ 
dren,” she said to herself, “I will consecrate the girls 
to the Blessed Virgin and the boys to the Sacred 
Heart, and I will do all in my power to bring them up 
in the fear and the love of God.” 

When God blessed Mr. and Mrs. Shields with a son 
in due time, his mother named him John, in honor of 
the beloved disciple. When she brought him to church 
to consecrate him to the Sacred Heart, Mrs. Shields 
knelt before the image of our Lord in joy and grati¬ 
tude. Placing her infant son in spirit in the out¬ 
stretched arms of the Master, who said, “Let the little 
ones come unto Me,” she humbly begged our Lord 
to accept her son as His own and to use him to pro¬ 
mote the glory of God and the welfare of mankind. 

This consecration Mrs. Shields not only renewed 
daily, but she also did all in her power to make her 
offering acceptable to God. When John was scarcely 
two years of age his mother told him how she had 
solemnly consecrated him, and encouraged him in 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


71 


every way to avoid evil and to do good “because he 
belonged to the Sacred Heart.” By frequent admoni¬ 
tion this consecration became so thoroughly impressed 
on the boy’s mind that Providence used it to effect 
the conversion of a policeman who had neglected his 
religion since the days of his youth. Passing in front 
of the Shields residence one day the officer was at¬ 
tracted by the child standing at the gate. Being in no 
hurry he paused and asked with a pleasant smile, “My 
boy, to whom do you belong?” “I belong to the 
Sacred Heart,” gravely replied John as he raised his 
innocent blue eyes to his inquirer. “That’s right,” 
remarked the officer as he struggled to suppress the 
emotions which this unexpected answer occasioned. 
“Don’t run away from the Sacred Heart when you 
grow up, as I did,” he then added. “Then you must 
come back,” John insisted with great earnestness, “for 
the Sacred Heart loves you still.” This pleading was 
too much for the officer. “My boy, I’ll come back 
Saturday night, so help me God,” he said, as he leaned 
over and fondly kissed the child. “Pray for me in the 
meantime that the Sacred Heart will take me back.” 


CHARLIE’S SANDWICH 



IKE the wise woman described by Solomon, 


Charlie Cotter’s mother knew how to combine 
thrift and genuine piety. When Mr. Cotter died, he 
left her an insurance of one thousand dollars, a rented 
cottage in Los Angeles, and five little children. By 
hard work and frugality, Mrs. Cotter managed to keep 
the children fed and clothed until Charlie was old 
enough to assume some of the responsibilities. During 
these years the mother instilled true piety into the 
hearts of her children by living a life of faith and 
genuine devotion. Her motto was “To do anything 
well you must sandwich it between two Hail Marys.” 


72 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Honest little Charlie imbibed his mother’s spirit at 
an early age, and became a great favorite at St. Mary’s 
school. He not only led his class but also became 
famous as the champion pitcher of Boyle Heights. In 
fact, the coolness, skill and endurance of this freckled¬ 
faced, unassuming lad were so well known in local 
circles that the opposing team felt almost as certain 
of defeat as his team did of victory whenever Charlie 
pitched. After a brilliant victory one day Bud Parker, 
the pitcher of the defeated team, waited for Charlie 
and earnestly inquired: “How do you do it, Red? I 
have watched you a long time. I seem to pitch as 
good as you, but the boys bat me all over the field. 
What trick have you that I have not?” “I sandwich 
the ball between two Hail Marys,” Charlie honestly 
replied. 

As Bud was in an humble, receptive mood, Charlie 
explained what he meant by his process of sandwich¬ 
ing. This of course necessitated other explanations. 
And by the time that Charlie had solved all of Bud’s 
difficulties he had explained the chief truths of our 
holy faith, the origin and significance of the Hail Mary, 
and the love and solicitude of the Mother of God for 
her children on earth. In conclusion Charlie said that 
he always succeeded in anything he sandwiched be¬ 
tween two Hail Marys. Bud was so favorably im¬ 
pressed that he reverenced Charlie as a saint, and 
declared he would become a Catholic even if he never 
won another game. 

As Bud Parker’s parents had divorced and married 
again, he made his home with Mrs. Hawkins, a mar¬ 
ried sister. He found his sister in tears over the 
.sudden illness of her child upon his return, but was so 
full of his subject that he had to tell her of Charlie’s 
sandwich and all that he had learned about the Cath¬ 
olic faith. “Lillie, I am going to become a Catholic I” 
he declared with delight. “I too would be willing to 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


73 


join,” sobbed his sister, “if God would spare my dar¬ 
ling. The doctor just left and said she would be dead 
in an hour.” “Is she that bad?” asked Bud with 
evident concern. After a moment’s pause he empha¬ 
tically asserted: “I’ll bet Charlie could cure her if he 
could sandwich her between two Hail Mary’s,” and 
hastened to bring him. 

Without pausing to explain the nature of his dis¬ 
tress as he ran into and out of the Cotter home, Bud 
gasped, “Charlie, come quick and help me.” “The boy 
is in trouble,” remarked Mrs. Cotter. “Go with him, 
Charlie.” As the boys ran down the street to the 
Hawkins home, Bud explained the nature of his er¬ 
rand, and concluded with this profession of faith in his 
hero: “If you can sandwich the baby between two 
Hail Marys, Charlie, Lil will become a Catholic too!” 

By the time the boys arrived at their destination 
Charlie had both prayed and planned. Having briefly 
explained the nature and necessity of Baptism to Mrs. 
Hawkins, he easily obtained her consent to baptize the 
sick child. While Bud procured the water and Mrs. 
Hawkins took up the child, Charlie knelt down and 
prayed a fervent Hail Mary. After the ceremony was 
performed he repeated this devotion. To the mother’s 
intense delight Charlie had hardly left when the child 
entered into a peaceful slumber. The following morn¬ 
ing it greeted her anxious gaze with a pleasant smile. 
Today both Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins as well as Bud 
Parker are devout Catholics. 


MARY, OUR ADVOCATE WITH JESUS 



N honest Methodist met the missionary on the 


+■ train one day and entered into conversation with 
him. After making a few commonplace remarks, he 
brought up the subject of religion. With the con- 




74 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


fidence of all who grow up in the system of self¬ 
deification by private judgment, he said: “I consider 
it censurable on the part of Catholics to hope for 
salvation from the Virgin, and to have recourse to her 
in all their wants. I turn directly to my Divine 
Saviour, Who alone is my Mediator with God. He 
alone can save me and give me the grace to live a 
blameless life. I cannot understand how any one can 
be so ignorant and so foolish as to put his trust in a 
mere creature.” 

“My dear sir,” replied the missionary, “I too, hope 
for salvation from the Son of God, and from Him 
alone, even as you do. For I acknowledge that not 
even the Blessed Virgin has power of her own to help 
me. There is a great difference, however, between 
your system of salvation and mine. You say you go 
directly to the Saviour in all your wants. But, let me 
ask, what have you to recommend you and your peti¬ 
tions? Perhaps your sins and human frailty? For I 
suppose you will admit you have faults and imper¬ 
fections. Or do you think that your personal recol¬ 
lection and devotion will be a sufficient recommenda¬ 
tion to ensure a cordial welcome and a favorable reply 
at all times? Now, I dare not close my eyes to my 
own unworthiness, nor dare I presume on the good¬ 
ness and mercy of God. So I love to approach Jesus 
Christ in the company of her, who is the loveliest and 
dearest of God’s creatures, and whom Jesus has chosen 
and honored as His own Mother. Let me ask you 
candidly, therefore, if you are looking for light, and 
not merely seeking to while away the time by specious 
arguments, whom do you think will be most graciously 
received by the Son? Who has the better prospect of 
having his petition granted?” 

After a momentary reflection, the Methodist replied: 
“You present the matter in a new light. Undoubtedly 
you have the best reason to expect the most cordial 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


75 


welcome from Jesus Christ when presented to Him by 
His own Mother, and if she recommends your petition 
her action ought to ensure a favorable reply. I admit 
that I was misinformed on this point. When I return 
to Oakland I will make a systematic study of Catholic 
doctrine, and, I promise you now, if I find the rest of 
the teachings of your Church as reasonable as this, I 
will turn and take my family with me/’ 

“I thank you for your sincerity,” replied the mis¬ 
sionary, “and can assure you in advance of the reason¬ 
ableness of our faith.” After writing an introduction 
on his card he handed it to his Methodist friend, say¬ 
ing: “When you return to Oakland, take this to the 
rector of St. Francis de Sales’ church. He will be 
delighted to help you. In the meantime,” he con¬ 
cluded with a roguish twinkle, “ask the Mother to 
recommend the affair to her Son.” 


A BOUQUET OF ROSES 

13 OSE was born in Illinois. Her father was a pros- 
perous merchant and her mother was a sensible 
and pious woman. While her father sought to sur¬ 
round her with the luxuries of life and gratify all her 
desires, her mother was solicitous to bring Rose up in 
the fear and the love of God. Two devotions she in¬ 
stilled into the heart of her child at a tender age, love 
for the Blessed Virgin and veneration for Jesus in the 
Blessed Sacrament. A picture of Mary at the foot of 
the cross in the Freeman home served as a means of 
fostering this spirit in the child. When Rose was 
scarcely two years old she paused before this picture 
one day and observed tears on Mary’s cheeks. Hasten¬ 
ing to her mother she caught hold of her skirt and 
pulled her towards the picture. “Look! Mamma, 
look!” she exclaimed. “Why does she cry?” 




7o 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Her mother had already taught Rose her prayers but 
had considered her too young to grasp the details of 
the consoling truths of our holy religion. Now, how¬ 
ever, she gladly availed herself of the opportunity. 
Taking the child in her arms she held her up so that 
she might observe the picture more closely. “The 
Mother of God is weeping because bad men nailed her 
Son to the cross,” she then replied. “And why did 
God allow it?” asked the child. “Because He loved 
us so much that He gave us His Son Jesus to save us 
from sin and hell, and open to us the gates of heaven.” 
“And did Jesus love us that much, too, and didn’t His 
Mother want to save Him from such pain?” persisted 
the child, and continued with many other questions 
until mother and child shed copious tears of com¬ 
passion as they contemplated the agony of Jesus on 
the cross and the sorrows of His Blessed Mother. 

For weeks Rose was preoccupied and sad. Instead 
of amusing herself with her dolls and other childish 
diversions, she daily sought more information on this 
fascinating mystery of divine love, and often was 
found in tears before the picture. “Mamma,” she said 
one day, “if only I could see Them and tell Them how 
much I love Them, They would feel better, wouldn’t 
They?” So her mother took Rose to Church and 
showed her the beautiful shrine of our Lady and the 
home of Jesus in the tabernacle. This visit was a 
revelation and a source of new life to the child. Before 
they left, Rose had obtained permission to bring the 
flowers to the sacristan, which her mother was in the 
habit of sending for the decoration of the altars. She 
availed herself of these occasions to speak very in¬ 
timately to Jesus and Mary. On one occasion the 
sacristan found her kneeling on the table of the high 
altar, pleading with Jesus in the tabernacle. “Dear 
Jesus, I love you so much,” she said as she expanded 
her little hands. “So come out and talk to me. I 
won’t let nobody hurt you.” 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


77 


When five years of age Rose Freeman was sent to 
St. Mary’s school, and continued there until she gradu¬ 
ated from the eighth grade. During these years she liter¬ 
ally “advanced in wisdom and age, and grace with God 
and men.” At home her mother never permitted her 
to indulge in the whims and inconsistencies of child¬ 
hood, and at school she was observed to be a little 
more recollected in prayer, a little more diligent in 
study, and a little more thoughtful and kind when 
playing than other children of her age. On this 
account Rose became a universal favorite and exer¬ 
cised a salutary influence by her example in the 
school. 

Mr. Freeman wished to make an accomplished lady 
of his daughter, and therefore was desirous of sending 
her to a fashionable boarding school at an early age. 
The mother, however, insisted on keeping the child 
under her watchful eye until she had finished the 
parochial school, and planned to send her to a school 
where she might acquire all the accomplishments of a 
polite education without having her religious spirit 
tarnished by the poisons of the world. After studying 
the yearbooks of various educational institutions, she 
finally decided to send her daughter to the Joseph- 
inum, conducted by the Sisters of Christian Charity, 
because this institution emphasized religion as well as 
the humble branches of domestic economy in its 
curriculum. 

The day of Rose’s departure was a memorable one 
in the family. Preparations were begun weeks in 
advance, and the baggage was checked the night be¬ 
fore. The family intended to take “The Limited” at 
6:30 A. M. They arrived at the station as the train 
pulled in. As they Avere about to enter, Rose burst 
into tears. “O papa,” she exclaimed, “I must take a 
bouquet of red and white roses along to decorate the 
altars!” The father looked vexed, but said: “All 
right, Rose, we can wait for the local train.” When 


78 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


they returned to the station an hour later, it was an¬ 
nounced that “The Limited” had been wrecked at La 
Grange, and that most of the passengers in the day 
coach had been killed or wounded. 


“THE BLESSED VIRGIN SAVED ME 
FROM THE PEN—THE DEVIL CANT 
GET ME NOW” 

DDIE CUSHING was born in what is known as 
-L-' the hell-hole of Chicago. This place had been 
the residence district of the laboring class when the 
Cushings built their home, but deteriorated into a 
cheap rooming-house district when the city expanded, 
and eventually became the refuge of criminals. Before 
his parents could dispose of their property Eddie had 
grown to be twelve years of age. And though he had 
an ideal Catholic home in many respects, and attended 
the parochial school for a while, Eddie could not be 
kept off the streets without being locked up. Thus 
his kind-hearted mother and busy father had no suspi¬ 
cion when they moved to a more desirable locality 
that their son had fallen under the evil influence of 
older companions. In a short time Eddie disappeared 
as completely as though the earth had swallowed him 
alive, as it did Core, Dathon and Aberon in the days of 
Moses. 

Mr. Cushing and his friends searched for the boy 
after work at night. Mrs. Cushing prayed on the 
marble floor of the church for his return until she got 
rheumatism, and Alice and Florence cried themselves 
to sleep longing for their big brother, but Eddie did 
not appear. After many years a detective told Mr. 
Cushing that Eddie had become the leader of the hell¬ 
hole gang, and that for a long time the police had been 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


79 


on his trail. Whenever they were confident of his 
arrest, Eddie vanished, only to resume his occupation 
in another quarter or in another town. He thus be¬ 
came notorious, and, as the police could obtain no 
other likeness of him than his First Communion photo¬ 
graph, this was given the place of honor in the rogues' 
gallery. 

One night Eddie Cushing was short of funds. Ob¬ 
serving a man display a well-filled wallet in a cigar 
store, he waited for him outside and relieved him of 
it at the point of his gun. One of the gang had ob¬ 
served the act and told his comrades. They sur¬ 
rounded Eddie in an alley and demanded their share. 
Eddie asserted that as this had been a private venture 
there would be no share. And when they proceeded 
to use violence, he drew his revolver and shot his 
first assailant through the leg. The report of the shot 
following soon after the robbery, attracted a swarm of 
police and detectives. When they approached with 
drawn revolvers they found only Eddie Cushing lead¬ 
ing his wounded comrade. To their surprise he of¬ 
fered no resistance, but shielded his comrade as an 
innocent victim of a shot intended for his unknown 
assailant. The following morning the papers an¬ 
nounced in glaring headlines: “Eddie Cushing, noted 
outlaw, caught after a search of sixteen years." 

That same morning Florence Cushing, prefect of the 
Children of Mary, called at the rectory to have a Mass 
offered for her brothers’ conversion. “We have prayed 
the rosary for him every night since I was a child," 
she told the priest, with tears coursing down her pale 
cheeks, “and now that this terrible thing has happened 
mamma is heart-broken." 

“Cheer up, my child," kindly said the priest. “When 
things seem hopeless, God's help is nigh. I will say 
Mass for your brother now, and see him later in the 
day." 


80 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Even when provided with a permit from the police 
magistrate, the priest had difficulty in gaining admis¬ 
sion to the prisoner. He found Eddie standing at the 
window of his concrete cell vacantly gazing down on 
the street. Putting his arm around him, the priest said : 
“Would you like to be free as the sparrows in the 
street?” This aroused Eddie from his reverie. Thrust¬ 
ing the priest aside, he haughtily demanded: “What 
do you want here?” “You might be more civil when a 
friend drops in,” replied the priest. “I came to help 
you. Eddie, you have come to the parting of the 
ways. Turn back before it is too late. Your poor 
mother is brokenhearted and your sisters are crying 
themselves sick. If you get out of this will you cut 
away from the gang and be a decent Christian?” “I 
will,” replied Eddie with decision. “You may believe 
it or not, but that was the first human blood I have 
ever shed. It has filled me with horror and disgust for 
my misspent life.” “Then get on your knees and make 
a good confession!” commanded the priest. 

After making various objections, Eddie Cushing 
finally knelt down beside the priest, seated on a prison 
stool, and made a sincere confession. Having given 
his penitent absolution and salutary advice, the priest 
drew forth his beads and asked: “Do you know what 
this is?” “A rosary,” promptly replied Eddie. “My 
mother taught me to say it.” “It is yours,” said the 
priest, and moved by a sudden impulse he added: “If 
you say it every day you are in jail, the Blessed Virgin 
will save you from the penitentiary.” Eddie grasped 
it eagerly, and, when the priest departed, was kneeling 
in the corner of his cell repeating the prayer he had 
learned as a child from his mother. 

Before setting out on a tour of missions, the priest 
had an interview with the prosecuting attorney, and 
was assured that if Eddie Cushing’s conduct in jail 
would be exemplary, he would be paroled. When the 
trial came up, however, a young assistant was given 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


81 


charge of the prosecution. He pictured Eddie’s life 
in the darkest colors. And as Eddie had no witnesses, 
and was too dumbfounded to testify in his own behalf, 
he pleaded guilty. The judge reserved ten days’ time 
to pronounce the sentence. In the meantime the priest 
returned and called on his penitent. “You said the 
Blessed Virgin would save me from the pen,” sobbed 
Eddie, as he cast his beads on the pavement, “and now 
I am to be sent up for fifteen years.” “Your part of 
the bargain was to say the rosary daily as long as you 
are in jail,” quietly replied the priest. “If you haven’t 
done so today, Eddie, you better pick up the beads.” 
After Eddie had done this, the priest resumed in a 
gentle tone: “In case the Blessed Virgin does help 
you to go free, will you promise her to recite the 
rosary daily, to go to Mass on Sundays with your 
mother, and to receive the Sacraments on the first 
Friday of every month?” And when Eddie had prom¬ 
ised, the priest again left him praying the rosary. 

Directing his steps to the office of the judge who 
had presided at the trial, the priest eloquently pleaded 
Eddie’s cause and concluded by asking that he be 
paroled on a suspended sentence. “And will you be 
responsible for him if he goes back to his old ways?” 
asked the judge in a tone of finality. “Here is my 
card,” quietly replied the priest. “If you turn Eddie 
Cushing over to me, and I am unable to produce him 
when you want him, you may send me to the peni¬ 
tentiary in his stead.” “I will take you at your word,” 
replied the judge, and proceeded to fill out the neces¬ 
sary document. This the priest took to Eddie’s mother 
and said: “Here is the answer to your prayers. It is 
your privilege to bring your son home.” 

Eddie Cushing was true to his word. As his con¬ 
duct during his six months in jail had won the esteem 
of the officials, so his integrity and piety during the 
six remaining years of his life edified the community 
and brought joy to his family. When the priest then 


82 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


again came to the city in the discharge of his mis¬ 
sionary labors, his first visitor was Florence Cushing. 
She announced that Eddie was dying of heart trouble, 
and was constantly asking for his friend. The priest 
visited Eddie repeatedly and administered all the con¬ 
solations of our religion to him. When the end came 

on the last day of May,-, Eddie was seated in 

an easy chair, while his sister fanned him, and sug¬ 
gested pious aspirations. “Florence,” he gasped, “get 
the rosary Father gave me. It is in my coat pocket. 
Put it around my neck,” he directed when she brought 
it. “Thanks, sister,” he then said with an assuring 
smile. “The Blessed Virgin saved me from the pen 
—the devil can’t get me now.” 


DEACON FLOOD 



HE missionary was vesting for holy Mass on 


A Monday morning when a man of giant propor¬ 
tions and advanced years entered the sacristy. Fall¬ 
ing on his knees, the man exclaimed: “I’ll never do it 
again ! Honest to God, I’ll never do it again!” Taken 
by surprise, the missionary did not know what to say. 
Looking the man over, the priest observed that he was 
sober, well dressed, and apparently a hard worker. 
“What is it you will not do again?” he then asked 
kindly. “I’ll never miss Mass again,” replied the man, 
still on his knees. “Since my wife died ten years ago 
I haven’t been to Mass until the mission began. I 
saw you looking right at me when you denounced 
some one for missing Mass like a heathen and eating 
meat like a dog.” 

The missionary then saw that the man had received 
an extraordinary grace. “Get off your knees before 
you take cold, my good man,” he said, as he helped 
the old man to his feet. Putting his arm around the 
generous proportions of his visitor, the missionary 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


83 


smiled and asked : “Now, what is your name, my good 
man?” “Tom Flood!” was the reply, “and I was sit¬ 
ting right in front of you when you were standing at 
the railing.” “Well, now, Tom, you know I didn’t 
use the language you credited me with. You are an 
honest man, and no doubt you were paying close at¬ 
tention to the sermon, but because you felt guilty in 
the sight of God you quoted my words in the language 
you used in making the application to yourself. This 
shows that you are no hypocrite, and that you intend 
to make the mission well. Am I right?” “Sure!” re¬ 
plied Tom Flood. “Well, then, let’s keep this secret 
to ourselves. Don’t tell anyone you have been negli¬ 
gent. Come to the exercises regularly, and I will help 
you make a good confession. Go now. God bless 
you, Tom.” 

Tom Flood went. He opened the sacristy door 
hastily, paused a moment, closed the door again, and 
advancing a few steps asked with deliberation: “Is 
there anything I can do for you, Father?” “There is,” 
replied the missionary promptly. The mission was in 
a little town of a northern state. It was March, and 
the weather was inclement. As the missionary was 
alone and had to preach to the congregation in the 
morning, twice to the children during the day, and 
twice to the congregation at night, he strained his 
voice sufficiently without leading in the recitation of 
the rosary. By having Tom Flood say the rosary with 
the congregation he might confirm him in his good 
resolution, edify the people, and perhaps encourage 
some negligent Catholic to make the mission. 

“What shall I do, take up the collection?” asked 
Tom, while his honest face beamed with fond anticipa¬ 
tion. “I have something more important than that 
for you to do,” replied the missionary. “I want you 
to be my deacon, and help me give the mission by 
leading in the recitation of the rosary every night.” 
Poor Tom looked puzzled. “I would like to, but I am 


84 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


afraid I can’t,” he finally said. “What? Don’t you 
know the Our Father?” “Sure I do!” replied Tom 
with assurance. “And the Hail Mary?” “Of course, 
I do!” replied Tom. “All you have to do is to say 
the Our Father once and the Hail Mary ten times and 
you have a decade. Repeat this five times and you 
have said the rosary,” explained the missionary. “But 
I noticed you sandwiched something’ in between the 
decades,” persisted Tom. “The mysteries,” replied 
the priest. “Let me take your prayer-book, so that I 
can mark them for you.” When this was done Tom 
departed. 

While the altar boys were lighting the candles for 
the evening services, Tom entered the sacristy. 
“Father, I have a fine school-ma’am out yonder,” he 
began. “I don’t want a deaconness, Mr. Flood,” in¬ 
terrupted the missionary. Besides, you promised to 
help me.” “But I am afraid of those mysteries,” pro¬ 
tested Tom. “Why, I marked them distinctly for you.” 
“That you did, but I can’t read,” finally Tom con¬ 
fessed. “That is a circumstance we did not take into 
consideration this morning,” deliberated the mis¬ 
sionary. “For the present we will make a compromise. 
Ask the lady to say the Creed and to give out the 
mysteries, but, Tom, you must do the rest. God bless 
you.” Thus it happened to the edification of the 
simple folks of the town that Tom Flood was con¬ 
verted and confirmed in his good resolution during the 
holy exercises of the mission. 


THE EFFICACY OF CHILDREN’S 
PRAYER, ASSISTED BY MR. FLOOD 

“TF YOU induce Mr. Vanier to receive the Sacra- 
ments,” said the pastor, “ I will consider the 
mission a success, even though others stay away. I 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


85 


have had three missions already and haven’t lined 
him up yet.” “Tell me all about him,” replied the 
missionary. “He is a French-Canadian,” explained 
the pastor, “nearly ninety years old, but still active. 
He is a good citizen, sober, industrious, and has raised 
his family well. He has the faith, and contributes to 
the support of the Church, but rarely comes to Mass, 
and never receives the Sacraments.” “I see you are 
asking for an extraordinary miracle of grace,” com¬ 
mented the missionary. “Perhaps Our Lady will 
grant it through the prayers of the children when 
other means have failed.” 

Throughout the children’s mission all joined in re¬ 
citing three Hail Marys at every exercise for the spe¬ 
cial intention of the missionary. Thus assured, the 
missionary set out to interview Mr. Vanier. It was 
a warm afternoon in March. The snow had disap¬ 
peared, but the frozen earth was covered with slush. 
The town in which the mission was held is situated 
in a pleasant valley of a northern state; a sparkling 
brook meanders through the middle, while the church 
is at one extremity and Mr. Vanier’s cottage at the 
other. When the missionary came to the last block 
he had to ascend a steep incline on which there was 
no sidewalk. Here his foot slipped and he fell head¬ 
long into the mud. When he arose, his own mother 
could not have recognized him, but he proceeded and 
rang Mr. Vanier’s door-bell. 

Providentially, Mr. Vanier opened the door. “See 
what I get in coming to see you,” remarked the mis¬ 
sionary pleasantly. “Oh, I am so sorry, faddaar,” 
replied Mr. Vanier, and soon had the members of 
his household busy restoring the priest to a present¬ 
able condition. “I am the missionary,” announced 
the priest when they were finally seated, “and I have 
come to get you to make this mission.” “I would 
like to please you, but it is too long since I confessed 
my sins,” replied xMr. Vanier. 


86 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“You are an old man, Mr. Vanier, and haven’t long 
to live,” continued the missionary. “If you die in your 
sins, the devil will drag your soul into hell quicker 
than I fell in the mud a few minutes ago. If you 
receice the Sacraments during this holy mission, God’s 
angels will wash away your sins better than I just 
washed the mud from my hands and face. It doesn’t 
matter how long you have been away. I will help 
you make a good confession, just as I helped a woman 
last week who was sixtv-five years away from the 
Sacraments. 

Ever since he had become interested in Mr. Vanier, 
the missionary had tried to discover the cause of his 
conduct. “As he has no bad habits,’’ he finally con¬ 
cluded, “the old man has some grievance against his 
wife.’’ “I come near that,’’ confessed Mr. Vanier,’’ it 
is sixty-four years since I received.’’ “And I haven’t 
met the man yet who couldn’t do what a woman did,’’ 
urged the missionary. “So let us shake hands on it. 
You promise to come tomorrow afternoon at three 
o’clock; and I promise that you will be heard first.’’ 
As they shook hands Mrs. Vanier paused in her knit¬ 
ting to remark: “Yes, he promises, but he won’t 
keep his promise!*’ The words acted like an electric 
shock to the old man. If the missionary had not been 
present there would have been a storm. “Silence, 
woman!’’ he said, to preserve the peace. “When two 
men shake hands over a bargain it’s sacred, and not 
like two women gossiping over the back fence.’’ 

After Mass the following morning, the missionary 
called Tom Flood and told him of his visit to Mr. 
Vanier. “The days are short, Tom, and the walking 
is bad for an old man,’’ he concluded, “so I will de¬ 
pend on you to see to it that Mr. Vanier will not be 
frightened by the crowd, but will be the first to go to 
confession this afternoon.’’ “Leave it to me,’’ said 
Tom, with a comprehensive wink. “I know I can rely 
on you Tom,” replied the missionary. 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


8 7 


When the priest entered the confessional that after¬ 
noon one man followed him to the right and another 
to the left. An instant later the curtain to the right 
was violently drawn aside. “Come out of that,” said 
Tom Flood, as he unceremoniously ejected the peni¬ 
tent and thrust in Mr. Vanier, “the holy father said 
that Mr. Vanier was to be the first.” The following 
morning three generations of the Vanier family filled 
the communion rail from end to end, and the old 
couple were the first to receive. 


THE REWARD OF A HAIL MARY 

R* FLOOD, is everybody making the mis- 
-*•*-*“ sion?” the missionary asked one morning. 
“To be sure,” replied Mr. Flood, “we came out of 
curiosity at the opening, and we have been like flies 
around a molasses jug ever since.” “I am not re¬ 
ferring to the pious people who cannot be driven 
away,” persisted the missionary, smiling, “but to some 
ought-to-be Catholics that may have fallen by the 
wayside of life.” “I never had any use for a turn¬ 
coat,” volunteered Mr. Flood, “but if you are in¬ 
terested in that class we must own up that we have 
one in our midst. They tell me he used to be a 
professor at the Berlin university. He lives in the 
big house yonder on the avenue. He has never been 
near the church that I know of, but he told me a 
couple of years ago that he was sorry he wasn’t a 
Catholic any longer.” “Come with me and introduce 
me. Mr. Flood,” pleaded the missionary, “I’d die for 
you, father, but I wouldn’t fight the old man’s 
daughter-in-law. Besides, the old man is sick at 
present, so it would be difficult to see him.” “In that 
case I will call on him at once,” replied the missionary, 
and walked on. 


88 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


In response to his ringing, a girl of about fifteen 
years opened the door. When she saw a Catholic 
priest standing before her she screamed: “Oh, ma¬ 
ma!” and disappeared. A moment later a middle- 
aged, well-preserved woman appeared. “What do you 
want here?” she demanded. “To see Mr.-re¬ 

plied the priest. “He is a Catholic, and has a right 
to see a priest when he is sick.” “You can’t see him!” 
said the woman, as she tried to slam the door in the 
missionary’s face. Fortunately he anticipated her 
movement and planted a foot inside of the door-sill. 
“Just tell him that I am here, please, I know it will 
cheer him.” “Just Wait a minute,” the woman then 
said, as though capitulating, and departed. After 
waiting twenty minutes, the missionary entered and 
found the woman calmly reading a book. “I suppose 

I may see Mr. - now?” he asked kindly. The 

woman then pointed out the room of the sick man and 
left, slamming several doors as she proceeded through 
the house. 

Upon entering the room, the missionary found a 
feeble old man in bed. His eyes were closed and 
his hands folded over the coverlet. His silvery locks 
and long beard gave him the appearance of Santa 
Claus. The missionary touched the folded hands, and 
the eyes opened. First the old man seemed dazed, 
then he stared, and finally sat up in bed and exclaimed, 
as he clasped his hands: “Thank God, you have come. 
Oh, how good the Blessed Virgin is to send you here 
to prepare me for death!” As though he had over¬ 
taxed his strength or his emotions, the old man then 
fell back apparently dead. The missionary became 
alarmed. He sought the old man’s pulse and found 
none. He then knelt dowm and said three Hail Marys, 
that the old man would not die without the Sacra¬ 
ments. 

As soon as Mr.-recovered consciousness, he 

gave the following outline of his life, in answer to an 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


89 


urgent inquiry of the missionary. “I was born in a 
factory town in Germany,” he said. “My father died 
when I was an infant. I remember my mother well. 
I was eight years old when she died. I am eighty-nine 
now. My mother was never strong. She was sick 
for a long while, and kind neighbors took care of her. 
One morning she was very weak. She called me: 
‘Francis, come here!’ she said, and I climbed upon the 
bed where she was propped up with pillows. She put 
her arms around me, and said: ‘Francis, your mother 
is dying, but she has no one to whom to leave you. 
Your father and I were orphans. I cannot die in peace 
until you make me one promise.’ I was ready to 
promise everything. ‘No,’ said my mother, ‘promise 
that wherever you may be, as long as you live, you will 
daily pray one Hail Mary to please your dying mother.’ 
After I had solemnly promised, she kissed me, and 
said: ‘And now I leave you in Mary’s care!’ She 
died that day. 

“Some kind neighbor adopted me and sent me to 
school. I led my class through the grades and high 
school. Then the men that had worked under my 
father made up a purse and sent me to the Berlin 
university. Being the only Catholic there I was 
ashamed of my religion. I neglected Mass and the 
Sacraments and gradually omitted my prayers. By 
the time I graduated I had become a professed infidel. 
I was offered a position on the staff of the university 
and lectured there for thirty-six years. During that 
time, I committed every sin and actually hated God 
so much that I would have broken a thousand com¬ 
mandments to spite Him.’’ 

With tears coursing down his wrinkled cheeks he 
then said: “In all my life there is one thing of which 
I am not ashamed. I kept my promise to my dying 
mother. Even when I did not believe, or came home 
drunk, I had given orders to my servant not to let 
me retire until I first knelt down and said my Hail 


90 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Mary. Since I came over here my faith has gradually 
come back. My past life seems like a horrible night¬ 
mare. My sins haunt me day and night, but our Lady 
has obtained for me the grace of true sorrow. For 
eighty-one years I have daily saluted her in the words 
of the angel Gabriel, and now I feel certain that she 
has sent you here to prepare me for death.” 

The old man then made a confession of his mis¬ 
spent life with such clearness and precision that he 
seemed to have examined himself in the light of 
eternity. The missionary hastened to bring him 
Viaticum and to impart to him the other consolations 
of our faith. He assisted the old man in his agony, 
and closed his eyes in death. At the funeral the mis¬ 
sionary narrated the pathetic story of Mr- life 

to a weeping congregation. All praised the goodness 
and mercy of Mary, and joined in the prayers for the 
repose of the old man’s soul. 


“HE IS ANXIOUS TO MAKE THE VOTE 
UNANIMOUS” 

TTHE mission at Verona, N. D. proved to be a 
memorable event in the history of the town. 
Many Catholics had settled in the vicinity, but had 
not yet formed the habit of attending Mass regularly 
when the mission began. In response to the personal 
invitation of their zealous pastor, the good people 
came from all sides to attend the opening exercises, 
and were so favorably impressed that they returned 
at night with their neighbors and friends. An ex¬ 
ceptional spirit of cordiality and good will was mani¬ 
fested bv the non-Catholics of Verona. The Lutheran 
choir volunteered their services for the evening exer¬ 
cises, and rendered the Catholic hymns in a creditable 
manner. The Methodists kindly donated the use of 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


91 


their chairs and vied with the Catholic fellow citizens 
in attending the exercises. Besides the usual features 
of a Catholic mission, one catechism class was started 
the first day for the children and another for adults 
preparing for their First Holy Communion. On the 
second day a third class was added for honest in¬ 
quirers, thirteen of whom were received into the 
Church during the mission. 

Saturday night the young men met in front of the 
church, after making their peace with God, and enum¬ 
erated their acquaintances who had been to Confes¬ 
sion. “The vote is unanimous,” remarked one. “With 
one exception,” replied a second. “I saw Frank Crim- 
mons come in on the nine-thirty this evening. When 
he made this territory a year ago he told me he had 
been brought up a Catholic.” “Boys, we ought to 
make this vote unanimous,” declared a third. “I sug¬ 
gest we go to the hotel and bring Frank to Confession 
before Father leaves the church.” 

In answer to the violent knocking of the young men 
the traveling salesman arose and opened the door. 
“What’s up, boys?” he asked in alarm when he saw 
the crowd in the corridor. “You are to dress as quick¬ 
ly as possible and accompany us,” briefly explained 
the spokesman. Outside of the hotel the young men 
picked Frank up and carried him toward the church 
on their shoulders. “You aren’t going to lynch me?” 
pleaded their victim as they proceeded in the darkness 
of the night. “Worse than that,” replied the wag of 
the crowd. 

The procession entered the church as the priest 
absolved the last penitent. Without further prelimi¬ 
nary the men deposited their burden in the Confes¬ 
sional. “Father,” explained their spokesman, “this 
fellow must go to Confession. He is the only Catholic 
within twenty miles who hasn’t gone, and, I am sure 
he is anxious to make the vote unanimous.” “Thank 
you, boys,” replied the missionary cordially as he 


92 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


took in the situation. “Under the circumstances, I 
suppose he is entitled to reduced rates?” “Certainly, 
Father,” replied the young men in chorus. “This was 
indeed a most pleasant surprise,” Frank Crimmons re¬ 
marked to the missionary before leaving the Confes¬ 
sional. “I am glad the boys gave me the invitation 
to make the mission. I certainly am resolved hence¬ 
forth to live a Catholic life.” 


THE COURTSHIP OF FRITZ WAGNER 



HE mission at Norfolk, Nebr., was well attended 


from the beginning. When the special lecture for 
the young people was announced, a man who occupied 
the front pew with his family, introduced himself as 
Fritz Wagner, to the missionary. “I would like to 
know,” he inquired, “whether you are going to tell the 
young people what the Church has to say on com¬ 
pany-keeping?” “My boys and girls are growing up,” 
he went on to explain, “and I want them to be here. 
They tell ma and me at times that we are old 
fashioned, that it isn’t customary any more to pray the 
Rosary and Litany at home, and that they can take 
care of themselves without having father or mother 
with them. I tell you, Father,” he went on, “we 
Catholic parents are having a hard time raising a 
family these days. The little ones are crazy about the 
movies and the big ones about motoring and dancing. 

“My girls want to sit up late entertaining their beaus, 
and my boys would spend more than they earn if I 
gave it to them, and they are unfit for work when they 
are out three nights in the week.” 

“I heartily sympathize with you, Mr. Wagner,” re¬ 
plied the missionary, “and will try to bring home their 
obligations to the young people this afternoon. If 
they could see life through the eyes of their elders 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


93 


we would have no difficulty in making them realize the 
necessity of moderation, self-discipline and respect 
for authority. The danger on the one hand is that 
their spirits crave for diversions that easily degenerate 
into dissipation. On the other hand their innocent 
hearts are easily fascinated by the ways of the world 
like moths are attracted by street lights, and they 
don’t suspect any evil until they are ensnared in it. 
They are honest and have a good will, and will aim 
to do the right thing if we kindly show them how their 
happiness for time and eternity depends on it. To 
succeed with them we must be patient in many things, 
indulgent in some things, but insist on what is essen¬ 
tial.” 

“There is just the point, Father,” remarked Fritz 
Wagner. “The world is drunk with dissipation. 
While others go the limit it is hard for us to hold 
our children to the essentials. When I came west 
thirty years ago and hired out as farm hand at a dol¬ 
lar a day, I had to be content with the essentials. I 
didn’t have money for luxuries. I was glad to work to 
get ahead. Then it was unheard of for boys and girls 
of decent parents to be out all hours of the night. Now 
you are considered old-fashioned if you don’t go along 
with the crowd to perdition. 

“We had human feelings in those days just as well 
as the young people of today, but we controlled them 
and reaped the advantage later on. I had my heart 
set on Katie Schmitz before I was able to support a 
wife. I saw how devoted she was to her family. I 
observed how modest she was in her dress, and how 
devout in church. People said she was a good dress¬ 
maker and cooked better than her mother. For a 
year I tried to get acquainted with her. When I got 
an introduction she kindly invited me to call. I did 
so after Vespers one Sunday evening. We were just 
having a nice visit when her father came and said: 
‘Nine o’clock! Time for the Rosary!’ When family 


94 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


devotions were over, Mr. Schmitz said: ‘Fritz, you 
go home! Katie, it is time for you to go to bed!’ 
After thus taking part in Schmitz’s devotions for a 
year, I finally said to Katie: ‘Don’t you think we 
two would enjoy praying the Rosary for ourselves the 
rest of our lives?’ ‘I think so,’ replied Katie, ‘but 
you better ask papa.’ ‘Mr. Schmitz/ I said to her 
father the next Sunday evening, ‘I would like to 
marry Katie, and she is willing if you and mother give 
your consent. I think you know me pretty well by 
this time. I love Katie and will be good to her. I 
have a thousand dollars saved up and intend to rent 
the Hopkins’ ranch until I can buy one of my own.’ 
Well, Father, we have been very happy together these 
twenty-seven years. The Lord has blessed us with 
eight children and three sections of land. But I can 
honestly tell you that I would gladly lose the land and 
hire out as a farm hand again, if by doing so I could 
make our children as respectful, as pious, and as hard¬ 
working as Katie and I were when we got married.” 


FATHER SMITH PUBLISHES THE 
BANNS 

\\ 7 HEN the early settlers pushed westward over 
* * the plains of Iowa, Father Smith, an athletic 

young priest, was sent to - to minister to the 

Catholics of the surrounding country. Though his 
appointment was temporary at first, he soon became 
an integral part of the new community and eventually 
remained to the ripe old age of 86. As his idealism 
inclined him to austerity in his earlier years, the first 
generation that came under his influence respectfully 
called their pastor Father Smith. In proportion as 
grace and experience enlarged his vision and de¬ 
veloped his sympathies, however, he began to be re- 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


95 


ferred to as dear Father Smith. And for the last 
thirty years of his life his fatherly interest in all his 
parishioners was so well known that he was affection¬ 
ately spoken of as dear, old Father Smith. 

Those who knew him best, claimed Father Smith 
kept a more accurate account of his parishioners than 
could be accomplished by the most modern system of 
bookkeeping. To give you the biography of any one 
he had but to fold his hands over his lanky knee 
and look away into space. Instantly the particular in¬ 
dividual, whom his memory would throw on the 
screen, would react the minutest details of his life 
before his pastor’s mental vision. He probably ac¬ 
quired this habit of silently communing with the mem¬ 
bers of his flock during the long winter evenings he 
spent alone at his fireside. 

In his later years, however, Father Smith’s memory 
began to confuse facts and fancies before he himself 
became aware of it. Frequently when he thus sur¬ 
veyed the parish in the evening his thought would 
linger on Tim Hogan. Tim had faithfully cared for 
his mother while she lived, but why should he re¬ 
main a bachelor now that she was gone? “And Tim 
would make a good husband for any girl, God bless 
him !” the old pastor would say as he nodded before 
going to bed. Some other evening his fancy would 
linger at the gate of Kittie Brady, who had been a 
mother to her younger brothers and sisters and seen 
them settled in life. “Talk about the wise woman 
lauded in the Proverbs,” he would say, “Kittie, you 
deserve the best husband in the parish. God bless you 
for your devotedness.” 

One night Father Smith was in his usual reverie and 
felt asleep. He dreamed that Tim Hogan and Kitty 
Brady called on him and made arrangements to be 
married at High Mass, as was the custom in the 

-parish. He then slumbered peacefully on until 

after 11 o’clock. He was alarmed when he glanced 



96 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


at the clock and did not pause to sift facts and fancies. 
As he picked up his candle and started for his room, 
he said with a fatherly pride: “Tim and Kittie will 
make an ideal couple. God bless them!” 

There was a look of approval on the faces of the 
parishioners the following day when Father Smith 
announced: “There is a promise of marriage between 
Timothy Hogan and Catherine Brady, both of this 
congregation. Anyone knowing of any impediment 
that would prevent them marrying is bound in con¬ 
science to reveal it.” After the services, Tim Hogan 
followed the pastor into the sacristy as Kittie Brady 
entered by the outside door. When Father Smith 
turned after bowing to the Crucifix, they both con¬ 
fronted him. “What’s up?” abruptly demanded Tim. 
“How could you do it, Father?” pleaded Kittie. “God 
bless you, children!” said Father Smith from the bot¬ 
tom of his heart. After much arguing and explaining, 
the two finally convinced the pastor of his mistake. 
“It’s a good mistake, children,” concluded Father 
Smith. “Talk it over during the week and save me 
from making an embarrassing explanation next Sun¬ 
day.” Needless to say, the ceremony took place as 
originally announced by Father Smith. 


AN OUTLAW IS CONVERTED 
THROUGH THE MEMORARE 



T 7 O’CLOCK on a pleasant morning in June, 


^ Bud Hawkins sat on a bench in Penn Valley Park, 
Kansas City, Mo. He was destitute, homeless, friend¬ 
less and 87 years of age. As a youth, circumstances 
had thrown him in with Jesse James. Mutual esteem 
and interest had made them boon companions. They 
shared in countless holdups, bank and train robberies, 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


97 


and shed much innocent blood. Having been con¬ 
demned to the Kansas penitentiary for life, Bud Haw¬ 
kins made his escape after forty years and now felt 
as free again as the birds that twittered in the 
branches overhead. As he sat there with hunger 
gnawing at his vitals, however, he almost regretted 
the sacrifice he had made to regain his liberty. 

In his misery and dejection Bud Hawkins kicked the 
turf beneath his feet and uncovered a leaflet on which 
the Memorare of St. Bernard was printed. Picking it 
up listlessly he read it through. The words “Never 
was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, 
implored thy help, and sought thy intercession was 
left unaided.” arrested his attention. Though brought 
up without religion he had seen and read much. He 
certainly felt most helpless on this pleasant morning. 
After reading these words for the third time, he there¬ 
fore said: “Lady, I am hard up myself. I haven’t 
had a good meal in a week. I’ll be thankful if you 
guide me to breakfast.” 

Bud Hawkins had entered the park from the new 
union station. Putting the leaflet into his pocket he 
arose and followed a path that led in the opposite 
direction. He emerged in front of St. Joseph’s orphan¬ 
age. Without a moment’s hesitation he entered the 
enclosure and made known his wants to the sister who 
answered the bell. There must have been a feast in 
the convent, for Bud Hawkins still maintains he re¬ 
ceived the best meal of his life at the orphanage that 
morning. 

After wandering about town to note the changes 
effected during the lapse of years, Bud Hawkins re¬ 
turned to Penn Valley Park for a nap. When he 
awoke the sun was sinking towards the hills of Kansas. 
The problem that confronted him now was to find 
supper and a night’s lodging. Instinctively he turned 
towards the orphanage, and then checked himself. 
Taking the slip of paper from his pocket he read the 


98 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Memorare with devotion. “Lady/’ he then said, “you 
have made this a happy day for me. Would it be 
asking- too much if you were to guide me during the 
night?” 

Having deposited the slip of paper in his pocket 
again, Bud Hawkins started eastward through the 
park and emerged on Thirty-first avenue. After fol¬ 
lowing this a few blocks he came to a large building 
and paused. Over the entrance was the sign : “Home 
of the Aged of the Little Sisters of the Poor.” With¬ 
in the enclosure he observed old men performing va¬ 
rious odd jobs. He entered and asked for a meal. 

“Is there any chance for me to be admitted here?” 
he asked when the sister returned. “I am poor, old 
and lonely, but I will gladly do what I can if admitted.” 

“We usually require a recommendation,” remarked 
the sister casually. “If you have one there will be 
no difficulty about admitting you.” 

“I have only this!” replied Bud Hawkins as he pro¬ 
duced the leaflet with the Memorare. “The Lady got 
me something to eat when I was starving and con¬ 
ducted me here this evening. I am not a Catholic, 
but I would like to know and serve God for her sake. 
If you let me stay I hope to show my gratitude the 
remainder of my life.” 

“Oh!” sighed the sister as she recognized the 
Memorare. “You shall be our Lady’s honored guest.” 

At the next retreat for the old folks of the home, 
Bud Hawkins was baptized. 


“THERE IS NO HELL!” 

r I ^ HE weather was threatening when the Arabic 
* left Queenstown, November 5, 1903. For two 
days the elements marshalled their forces before they 
broke forth with violence. Then they raged for three 
days and nights with unabated fury, until they tore 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


99 


the rudder from the Arabic. At this crisis the cap¬ 
tain assembled the passengers and supplied them with 
life-preservers. “Unless God helps us,” he announced, 
“we must all land at the bottom of the sea!” 

Among the passengers was a lawyer. In Iowa he 
is known as Judas M. MacCarty, though he had been 
baptized in Cork, Ireland, as James Michael McCarthy. 
As a boy he had emigrated to the United States with 
his parents and neglected his religion, as a man to 
make a fortune. As a lawyer he specialized in singling 
out Irish immigrants as his victims. His plan was to 
gain their confidence and induce them to leave their 
savings with him, their countryman, until they were 
ready to make a favorable investment. In a short time 
he thus obtained possession of $25,000 without giving 
any security to his creditors. 

This amount enabled the lawyer to erect an impos¬ 
ing business block and acquire the reputation of be¬ 
ing a public-spirited citizen. In due time gold letters 
on the office windows announced that Judas M. Mac¬ 
Carty was in possession. Hence, when the depositors 
came for their money they were informed there was 
no James M. MacCarty in town, and that Judas M. 
MacCarty would have them jailed as blackmailers 
if they did not cease annoying him. “You may deny 
your faith and scotch your nationality,” replied one of 
his victims, “but you have basely betrayed us as Judas 
did the Master, and with him you will have your re¬ 
ward in hell.” 

MacCarty’s conscience had already condemned his 
conduct as crying to heaven for vengeance, but this 
reference to Judas the traitor brought the torments of 
hell vividly before his mind. He thought of them by 
day and dreamed of them by night until they became 
an obsession with him. As he did not wish to make 
restitution, however, he hardened his heart against 
the promptings of grace until he became spiritually 
blinded. In this condition he found comfort in con- 


100 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


vincing himself there was no hell, and then developed 
a hobby of proving this to anyone that would listen 
to him. Thus he lived to the age of 65, before a long¬ 
ing for the scenes of his childhood induced him to 
spend a vacation in Ireland. 

When the storm overtook the Arabic, MacCarty be¬ 
came restless and apprehensive. His calm self-pos¬ 
session vanished, while the secret of his heart was 
uppermost in his mind. “What do you think of the 
storm ?” he asked a sailor who was carrying the camp 
chairs inside. “I have never seen anything so threat¬ 
ening, M replied the sailor. “If the Lord don’t protect 
us we are all going to land in hell.” “There is no 
hell!” protested MacCarty as he staggered towards 
his stateroom. “Just wait and see for yourself!” re¬ 
plied the sailor doggedly. 

MacCarty certainly did not wish to experience the 
torments of hell. Hence, when the captain announced 
that the ship was at the mercy of the winds and the 
waves, and begged the passengers to pray for divine 
help, he was the first to fall on his knees. An eye¬ 
witness related, when they landed in New York, that 
MacCarty prayed in an agony of despair: “O God, 
save me! O God. spare me! O God, don’t damn my 
poor soul to hell! I will make restitution and be a 
decent Christian if I ever set foot on dry land again.” 


MAN PROPOSES; GOD DISPOSES 

'CP STHER MEANEY was eighteen when her 
mother died. Bereft of her father as an infant, 
she had known only a mother’s love and care, and 
under her guidance had grown into a pure, devout and 
sensible young woman. Only when she returned from 
her mother’s funeral did she realize the vastness of 
her loss. Neighbors and friends, of course, offered her 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 101 

■" mt 

•* •* " 

sympathy and aid, but her heart was too desolate to 
profit by them for the present. Like one in a stupor 
she wandered aimlessly about the cottage she had 
called home, until her eyes rested on her mother's 
picture and her dying words came to her mind. 
“Cheer up, darling/' her mother had said, as she af¬ 
fectionately took leave of her, “I will always be with 
you in spirit. God knows what is best. I leave you 
in Mary’s care.” Falling prostrate on her bed, Esther 
then shed copious tears, the first relief she had ex¬ 
perienced since the good mother had departed. 

As time subdued the intensity of her grief, Esther 
Meaney gradually yielded to the solicitude of her 
friends, sold her cottage, and went to live with an old 
schoolmate in the same town of Bloomington. Gradu¬ 
ally, too, the diversions of social life began to fascinate 
and allure her. While still at home Esther had con¬ 
stantly cherished the desire of consecrating her love 
entirely to God when her mother would go to heaven. 
The desire faded away in proportion as a more seduc¬ 
tive impulse entered her heart. Without causing her 
to omit accustomed devotions, this craving for earthly 
distractions dulled her fervor and turned her into a 
temporizing mood. After drifting thus for more than 
a year, she met James Hurley, who had returned to 
Bloomington after an absence of several years, and 
made a most favorable impression upon him. Though 
indifferent to his attentions at first, she eventually 
yielded to his entreaties upon the advice of her friends 
and promised him her heart and hand. 

Just then a young woman registered at a local hotel 
whose arrival was destined to disturb the equanimity 
and fond anticipations of Esther Meaney. She first 
startled the community by having James Hurley ar¬ 
rested, and then sued him for desertion and non-sup- 
port of herself and her child. To those who were in¬ 
terested she readily showed her marriage certificate. 
This proved beyond doubt that James Hurley and 


102 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Emma Hayes had been married in Chicago by Father 
Flannigan. 

This sudden revelation affected Esther Meaney 
more than the loss of her mother. Death had robbed 
her of mother’s visible presence, but this experience 
crushed her heart as in a vise without prostrating her. 
Of late she had rarely been seen in prayer before our 
Lady’s shrine. Neither had she found it necessary 
to seek advice of her confessor. Now she suddenly 
realized she had need of both. After spending a long 
time in church, she sought an interview with her pas¬ 
tor. When she emerged from the rectory she carried 
the recommendation of her confessor in her bosom. 
That night she left Bloomington forever. Today she 
has not only recovered her fervor, but is beloved by 
the sisters and orphans of a well-known institution of 
charity. 


“HE HATH BLASPHEMED” 

ERT HENNESSY was not a miser. He said so 
himself. He maintained that it is man’s duty to 
make all the money he can, and that God helps only 
those who help themselves first. His cynical disposi¬ 
tion was rather Bert’s misfortune than his fault, for 
he came to this country from Cork by way of Canada. 
He stopped long enough in that cold country to have 
the fervor of his faith and the generosity of his Irish 
nature chilled so badly that they remained permanent¬ 
ly stunted ever afterwards. When he crossed over 
to the States, he eventually opened a meat market in 
--, Ta. Here he was the first to open in the morn¬ 
ing and the last to close at night, in spite of the fact 
that he had to go fifteen miles to a neighboring city 
after business hours to procure his supply of meat. 

Bert Hennessy subordinated even his religion to his 
business. He paid his dues to the church because he 





ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


103 


lived in a Catholic community and hoped thereby to 
advance his material interest. For the same reason he 
showed himself occasionally at divine services and re¬ 
ceived the Sacraments during the Easter season. But 
the glory of God was as foreign to his mind as the love 
of Jesus and Mary was to his heart. And so he re¬ 
mained unmoved by the admonitions of his pastor, the 
entreaties of his wife, and the example of the Holy 
Name society. 

His customers admitted that Bert Hennessy was 
just in his dealings, but they called him the Irish 
Jew on account of his business methods. By paying 
cash for his supplies he obtained a discount from the 
packers, and by selling for cash he obtained quick re¬ 
turns and was able to increase his business. He 
therefore aimed to do a cash business, and positively 
scowled when even his best customers wished to run 
a monthly account. As a result of this selfish and 
short-sighted policy Bert Hennessy lost much of his 

trade to a competitor in -, who sent his delivery 

wagon twice a week to Bert’s town. 

Lady Day had always been a great feast for the 
Catholics of the place. On that day most of the 
parishioners received the Sacraments, and the stores 
remained closed until after the services. Though a 
steady rain had fallen all night, Mrs. Hennessy pre¬ 
pared to take part in the services on Lady Day, and 
urged her husband to accompany her. “Bert,” she 
pleaded, “this is Lady Day. You can’t open the store 
before 10 o’clock. So come to church with me, and ob¬ 
tain our Lady’s blessing.” “I must thank myself for 
all I have,” sneered her husband. “I wouldn’t send a 
dog to church in this weather for all the blessings of 
our Lady.” 

After his wife had departed Bert Hennessy prepared 
to go to the store, so that he would be on hand when 
his customers would arrive. But he changed his plans 
when a friend in the city telephoned him that a man 



104 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


who owed Hennessy ten dollars, had just stepped off 
the train. “Thanks,” he replied cordially, “I'll run in 
and collect that money, and get back to open the store 
at 10 o’clock.” In his anxiety to recover his ten dol¬ 
lars Bert Hennessy omitted to put the chains on his 
wheels. A mile from town his car skidded and over¬ 
turned in a ditch filled by the rain. Here his lifeless 
body was discovered two hours later by the 
parishioners when they returned from divine services. 


SHE WAS TAKEN UP TO HEAVEN 
WITH HER ROSARY 

HAVE another friend before the throne of God,” 
cheerfully announced Father Ryan as he re¬ 
turned from a sick call. “Mrs. Duffy was just taken 
up to heaven with her Rosary.” “That is interesting. 
Tell us all about it,” suggested the missionary, who 
was ever on the alert for an edifying story. “Accord¬ 
ing to the scriptural standard of ‘Whom the Lord 
loveth He chastiseth,’ she must have been very dear to 
God,” continued Father Ryan as he seated himself, 
“for she rivalled holy Job in affliction. “I trust it was 
not because she reaped as she had sown,” suggested 
the missionary. “By no means,” emphatically declared 
Father Ryan. “She always lived a pure, self-sacrificing 
life, seeking only to do God’s holy will. That’s why 
she died the death of a saint. 

“Mrs. Duffy was above the average in mental en¬ 
dowment and Catholic education. Her husband was 
in the grocery business here in the early ’80’s, and for 
a while she was active in church and charitable works. 
When I came to Hampton about thirty years ago the 
Duffy’s were prosperous and had five children. Short¬ 
ly after my arrival I answered a hurried call to the 
Duffy home, and found that her husband had had a 


\NECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


105 


severe hemorrhage. The doctors ordered him west 
for his health, but he soon returned to die among 
his own. Consumption was in the family. One by 
one the children followed their father to the grave. 
During these years Mrs. Duffy was not only the 
guardian angel of the home, but also a living copy of 
the Mother of Sorrows. Under such conditions the 
grocery business was neglected and bills piled up like 
snowdrifts. Eventually Mrs. Duffy lost everything, 
even her home. To crown her measure of affliction 
she contracted some disease of the eyes and became 
blind, when she was working to make an honest living 
ten years ago. 

“Of course the whole town sympathized with Mrs. 
Duffy in her trials, but when she became helpless 
there were very few that wished to do anything for 
her. The authorities were about to take her to the 
county farm when a friend interfered and secured a 
modest home for her with another widow.” 

“And that friend, no doubt, was the pastor of St. 
Thomas’ church,’’ interrupted the missionary. “We 
heard of his charitable deeds before we came to this 
town, and have witnessed them since our arrival.’’ 

“It would have broken my heart to see her go to 
the poorhouse,’’ replied Father Ryan, “but I now con¬ 
fess I made a good bargain with her. In return for 
the care she received, Mrs. Duffy cheerfully agreed to 
offer up her affliction for the spiritual welfare of my 
flock.’’ “And that accounts for the unusual degree of 
fervor which pervades the entire congregation,’’ com¬ 
mented the missionary. 

“Of late,” continued Father Ryan, “Mrs. Duffy grew 
too weak to accompany Mrs. Hogan to daily Mass, 
so I brought her Holy Communion at 7 o’clock. As 
she grew weaker she had her devoted nurse tie her 
Rosary to her left hand so that her worn fingers could 
hold the beads to the last. If I had known the end 
was so near I would have had you accompany me on 


106 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


this visit. Ah, her departure was truly in conformity 
with her life! I had proceeded with the prayers for 
the dying up to ‘Depart, Christian soul, in the name 
of the Holy Ghost, who sanctified thee,’ when Mrs. 
Duffy’s countenance was illumined with a radiant 
smile. Rising to a sitting posture, she raised her 
hands, clutching her beads heavenwards, and sweetly 
murmured: ‘Oh, blessed Mother, draw me up to 
heaven with your holy Rosary.’ Before I realized it 
her spirit had winged its flight.” 

“The Blessed Virgin is good!” remarked the mis¬ 
sionary, as he wiped away a tear that stole down his 
cheek. 


HE MISSED THE MEETING 

Tp OUR Socialists arrived in Pueblo one Sunday 
morning to stir up trouble among the men work¬ 
ing in the mills. One of their number, Frank Evans, 
was a native of the town. He was born of good par¬ 
ents in St. Patrick’s parish and received his education 
in the parochial school. Unfortunately, however, he 
persisted in associating with evil companions, in spite 
of the repeated admonition of his superiors, and left 
town with them at the age of 15. During the twenty 
years that had since elapsed he had never written 
home nor heard whether his parents were still alive. 

Though Frank Evans had fallen very low by this 
time, his better nature reasserted itself as the scenes 
of his childhood gladdened his heart. Observing a 
gold cross in the distance he pointed it out to his com¬ 
panions, and exclaimed: “That’s St. Patrick’s church, 
boys! I was baptized and received my First Com¬ 
munion there.” “How touching!” sneered one of his 
companions. “The old town has turned your head,” 
remarked another. When they reached Third and 
Routt streets an old woman leaning on a cane and 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


107 


carrying a rosary entered the church. Frank Evans 
recognized her and commanded the driver of the taxi 
to stop. '‘That’s my mother! I’m going to see her!” 
he excitedly exclaimed. “Let her go!” protested the 
others sternly. “If you must see her you can look 
her up after the meeting.” But he leaped from the 
machine and hastened after his mother into the 
church. 

The presence of his mother had touched Frank 
Evans keenly. What he now witnessed intensified his 
feeling and revived his faith. As he assisted at the 
services, the nobler scenes of his boyhood days passed 
vividly before his mental vision. He beheld himself 
leading in the recitation of the Rosary in the family 
circle He recalled the kindness and the good example 
of the Sisters of Charity in the classroom, and the 
pains with which the pastor had prepared his class 
for First Holy Communion. He then contrasted his 
present lamentable condition with the purity and piety 
of those days, until, in utter disgust with himself, he 
fell on his knees and sobbed with the publican: “O 
Lord, be merciful to me a sinner!” 

After Mass, Frank Evans followed the pastor into 
the sacristy, and had an interview with him that 
caused the angels in heaven to rejoice more than they 
would over the perserverance of ninety-nine saints. 
As he knelt before our Lady’s shrine later on, he 
sobbed: “O Mother of God, how long have I ignored 
thee! But thou hast not forgotten me. No doubt my 
mother pleaded daily with thee for me. Thanks to 
thv tender mercy I again venture to raise my eyes 
to thee, for, relying on thy help, I am firmly resolved 
to change my life and return to the practices of my 
youth. Dispose my mother, who has suffered so much 
on my account, to receive me as her long-lost son.” 
Needless to say, Frank Evans received a cordial wel¬ 
come from his mother, and did not attend the Socialist 
meeting. 


108 IT MIGHT BE YOU 

“HE IS TOO YOUNG TO MARRY” 

LEATHER, I want you to speak to my son John,” 

■*“ said Mrs. Ryan to the missionary after she 
had introduced herself and taken a chair. The mis¬ 
sion at-, Neb., was attracting the faithful from 

far and near to the edification and encouragement of 
the missionary, and burdening him with additional re¬ 
sponsibilities. He had repeatedly been called upon to 
act the Good Shepherd in searching for the stray sheep 
of the flock, and now presumed he was about to be 
entrusted with another commission of this kind. He 
therefore indulged in an idle fancy, picturing John 
Ryan as a shabbily dressed individual who worked 
hard in the saloon of the town and spent his leisure 
reclining against the front wall, covering the side¬ 
walk with tobacco-juice and filling the air with pro¬ 
fanity. 

“And what shall I say to John?” asked the mis¬ 
sionary, anxious for a clue that might aid him in sav¬ 
ing his soul. “That he shouldn’t leave his old mother,” 
replied Mrs. Ryan with sufficient feeling to touch a 
heart of stone. “I don’t understand,” confessed the 
missionary in his perplexity. If John were what he 
had just imagined him to be, any mother would be 
fortunate in losing him, he thought. “And what does 
John intend to do?” he asked. “Sure, he wants to get 
married,” droned Mrs. Ryan. “Oh!” exclaimed the 
missionary, as he began to comprehend the difficulty. 
He then apologized in his mind to John for having 
wronged him. 

During the moments he consumed in this mental 
readjustment, the missionary took occasion to study 
his visitor. Mrs. Ryan was a woman of medium 
height, plainly but neatly dressed, and about 70 years 
of age. Though advanced in years she was still vigor¬ 
ous and seemed to have lived an active, if not a 



ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


109 


laborious life. “She has probably supported herself 
and her child by taking in washing,” thought the 
missionary, “and naturally expects him to care for 
her now.” “I suppose you are dependent on John for 
your daily bread,” he suggested. “What?” demanded 
Mrs. Ryan indignantly. “I want you to understand 
I am no pauper. I own my own home in town, have 
$5,000 in the bank, and have a farm of 400 acres.” 

Stunned by this revelation the missionary meekly 
asked: “Does John intend to marry a Catholic girl?” 
“The snip is a Catholic, all right, and belongs to a 
decent family,” replied Mrs. Ryan peevishly. “Why 
then do you object to your son’s marriage?” asked the 
missionary, as he began to suspect the mother of un¬ 
due opposition to his matrimonial venture. “Because 
he is too young to marry,” replied Mrs. Ryan in a 
tone of decision. Considering himself competent to 
judge of a marriageable age, the missionary persisted 
and asked: “How old is John?” “Father, I tell you 
he is too young to marry,” replied the mother. “Mrs. 
Ryan, I demand to know your son’s age,” insisted the 
missionary. “He is only 44,” acknowledged his 
mother with some misgivings. “And how old were 
you when you were married?” “I was coming 17,” 
replied Mrs. Ryan with evident pride and satisfaction. 

At last the case was clear as daylight. The mother 
was jealous of the young lady her son wished to marry 
and unjustly opposed their union. “Mrs. Ryan,” he 
therefore said, “you are committing sin by opposing 
this marriage. John should have married twenty years 
ago. To make amends for the wrong done him I in¬ 
tend to marry the couple during the mission. We will 
take a day off and make it a parish celebration. Tell 
your son to bring the girl to the pastor and arrange 
the celebration.” “I’ll do nothing of the kind,” in¬ 
dignantly replied Mrs. Ryan, as she hastily left the 
office 


110 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 

SATAN HAD ROBBED HER OF PEACE 

PITY the soul whom Satan has robbed of peace 

by means of a bad Confession,” remarked the 
missionary in the course of his morning sermon. 
When he concluded, a woman of nearly eighty years 
of age followed him into the sacristy. ”1 am the soul 
you pitied. I have always made bad confessions,” she 
said, and burst into tears. “I am glad you have told 
me,” replied the missionary kindly, “for we will now 
rob Satan of his pleasure by having you make a good 
confession.” “I have made bad confessions during 
many missions,” continued the woman between sobs, 
“so 1 beg you to listen to my trouble now.” A glance 
sufficed to convince the missionary that the woman 
was neither insane nor vicious, but a simple honest 
soul in distress. So he invited her to be seated and 
proceed with her narrative. 

“In the place where I was born,” said the woman, 
“there was an excellent parochial school. It was the 
only one I ever attended. To inspire us with devo¬ 
tion to Mary there was a shrine of our Lady in every 
room. During the month of May the sisters invited us 
to bring flowers to decorate these shrines. The chil¬ 
dren brought flowers from their mothers’ gardens. As 
my mother had no garden and was too poor to buy 
flowers, I felt bad because I was the only one that 
did nothing to decorate our Lady’s shrine. While 
going to Mass one morning I saw some beautiful 
flowers in the pastor’s garden. Entering unobserved 
I picked a bouquet and carried it in triumph to my 
teacher. Not knowing where I had obtained them, 
the sister praised me publicly for bringing the finest 
flowers during the month of May. During the Ember 
days before the close of school the children were re¬ 
quired to go to Confession. When I began to 
examine my conscience it gradually dawned on me 
that in taking the flowers for our Lady’s shrine I had 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


111 


been guilty of theft instead of devotion, yes, I had 
stolen from the Church and so had committed a sacri¬ 
lege. When my turn came to enter the confessional, I 
feared, if I told the priest what I had done, he would 
punish me and perhaps even denounce me before the 
whole school. So I concealed it, though I knew I 
was making a bad Confession. As time went on, I 
received my First Communion, was confirmed and 
married in that condition. For seventy years I have 
cried myself to sleep nights and trembled lest I would 
wake up in hell. I often tried to rectify that mistake 
but never could summon courage until I saw you look 
at me this morning and say you pitied the one Satan 
had robbed of peace by a bad Confession.” 

“Not only do I pity you, my poor woman,” replied 
the missionary, “but my heart overflows with sym¬ 
pathy for you. Under the circumstances it was no 
sin, but an act of devotion to pluck the flowers. If 
the pastor had known your pious desire he would 
have praised you and perhaps invited you to come 
every Saturday to help decorate the altars in the 
church. Satan has certainly held you captive long 
enough. I must go to the Confessional now. Follow 
me, and I will help you make a Confession of your 
life. You may then receive Holy Communion on 
all the remaining mornings of the mission. You ought 
to thank God and our Lady for the peace of heart 
you have found again after all these years.” 

1 ' m _ 

I PRAY FOR CHINA-BABIES 

TV/T RS. MARGARET BARRETT came to spend 
-*-*-*- the vacation with her son John and his family. 
After making a failure of several undertakings, her 
husband had died ten years before, leaving her an 
insurance policy and a tract of land in the Messaba 


112 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


region. When iron ore was discovered in the vicinity, 
she disposed of the land for half a million dollars and 
bought a fashionable home in St. Paul. Though Mrs. 
Barrett passed as a nominal Catholic, her mind and 
heart had never been leavened by Christian faith, 
hope and charity. When she unexpectedly grew rich, 
therefore, she also became arrogant with the assump¬ 
tion that springs from ignorance and conceit. 

Thanks to the influence of Mrs. Barrett, Jr., John 
and his family were genuine Catholics and daily Com¬ 
municants. When his mother arrived, she chided her 
son and his gentle wife for reviving such mediaeval 
practices as family devotions, and positively flew into 
a rage when she disovered the following morning that 
the entire family had been to Mass and Communion. 
“You simpletons,” she concluded, “don’t you see the 
priests are after your money? They will never get 
any of mine; and yet, when I come to die, I’ll have a 
richer funeral than any of you.” “Mother, I fear you 
are mistaken about the priests,” replied her son. “If 
men of their education were after money, instead of 
seeking to smuggle us into heaven, they could fill the 
highest salaried positions in the land.” 

After her nap one afternoon, Mrs. Margaret Barrett 
discovered her granddaughter praying the Rosary 
before a statue of Our Lady. “My God, did I come 
to visit a convent!” she exclaimed. “Madge, what are 
you doing?” “I have just prayed the Rosary, grand¬ 
ma,” replied the young lady, as she arose and cheer¬ 
fully inquired whether there was anything she could 
do for her. “Have you been praying because your 
mother scolded you?” continued Mrs. Barrett. “Mama 
doesn’t scold,” protested Madge as she affectionately 
embraced her grandmother. “Perhaps your sweet¬ 
heart has gone back on you?” persisted Mrs. Barrett. 
“No danger of that!” replied Madge with a smile that 
brought a dimple to each cheek. “Tell me, then, why 
did you pray?” insisted Mrs. Barrett. “I pray for 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


113 


China-babies,” replied Madge simply. “Oh, you over¬ 
grown child!” exclaimed Mrs. Barrett indulgently. 
“I will buy you the biggest doll in town.” “Grandma, 
you misunderstood me,” corrected Madge. “I love 
God with all my heart, and feel sad because Chinese 
parents kill their babies without even having them 
baptized. I pray that God may give them the grace 
of holy Baptism because Jesus died for them as well 
as for me.” “Grandma,” continued Madge as she 
leaped for joy, “in a month I am going to join the Mis¬ 
sionary Sisters of Mary and go to China, where I hope 
to baptize those innocents and send them to heaven.” 
“Child, you are crazy!” shrieked Mrs. Barrett as she 
stared at her granddaughter for a moment and then 
rushed from the room. 

After a few days Mrs. Barrett found Madge alone 
again and said to her: “Child, I will make you my heir 
if you give up that foolish notion of becoming a 
nun.” “You are very kind, grandma,” replied Madge, 
“but I cannot accept your offer. On the one hand 
God calls me to this life, on the other, our Saviour 
says: ‘It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye 
of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom 
of heaven.’ With your money I could buy some 
of the fleeting pleasures of life, but the reward of 
serving God faithfully will be eternal happiness. 
Think of it, Grandma, ‘Eye hath not seen nor ear, 
heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, 
what things God hath prepared for them that love 
Him.” 

This sincere profession moved Mrs. Barrett pro¬ 
foundly. “Madge,” she exclaimed as she tenderly 
embraced her granddaughter, “I never had much re¬ 
ligion, but you have taught me a salutary lesson. 
From now on I will be a practical Catholic, and, if 
you permit, I will finance your missionary labors. In 
the past I have made money my god, but now I too 
wish to do something to earn heaven.” 


114 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“WHEN IN TROUBLE SAY A HAIL 
MARY” 

T EN YEARS ago last May John Toner resolved 
to put an end to his misspent life. He was born 
of devout Catholic parents in St. Patrick’s parish, 
Chicago, and graduated with honors from its school. 
In the days of his innocence he seriously debated for 
a time whether to study for the priesthood or to join 
the ranks of the Christian Brothers. As long as he 
was faithful to the advice of his mother, “When in 
trouble say a Hail Mary,” life flowed on serenely for 
him. Unfortunately, however, he gave up this beauti¬ 
ful practice when the world began to allure him, and 
willing companions appeared to lead him on the way 
to perdition. 

During the twenty years that then rolled by John 
Toner became a drunkard, a gambler, and a fre¬ 
quenter of evil resorts. The pleadings of his wife as 
well as the tears of his hungry children were power¬ 
less in turning him from his corrupt associates or 
mending his evil ways. When he returned home at 
an early hour this morning after a protracted spell of 
dissipation, his wife confronted him with the lifeless 
body of their infant child in her arms. “May God 
forgive you, John, for letting your own children 
starve,” she said in an agony of despair. “I have 
endured your neglect and abuse in silence, but this 
has broken my heart.” And she fell in a dead faint. 

John Toner’s first impulse was to summon aid. He 
then turned on himself and condemned himself with¬ 
out mercy. Instead of asking pardon from God, how¬ 
ever, he dwelt on the failure he had made of his life. 
“End all!” urged the tempter, and proceeded to sug¬ 
gest various appropriate ways of ending so miserable 
an existence. The unfortunate man finally decided to 
hang himself from “suicide bridge,” spanning the 
lagoon in Lincoln park. Providing himself with a 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


115 


rope he disappeared. A Clark street car brought him 
to his destination. Here he fastened one end of the 
rope to his neck and the other to the bridge from which 
many have jumped to end their earthly misery. 

When Toner arrived, dark clouds shrouded the 
placid waters of the lagoon. As he now stood pre¬ 
pared to leap into eternity they parted and permitted 
a silvery moon to flood the park with light. This 
caused him to pause with his right foot on the railing. 
Just then the large bell of St. Michael’s church broke 
the stillness of the morning. Toner stood motionless 
and listened : “One ! Two ! Three !” he counted. “It is 
the Angelus!” he said, as he entered into a repentant 
mood. For years his guardian angel had waited for 
this opportunity. “When in trouble say a Hail 
Mary!” he suggested. “Don’t damn your soul to hell. 
Re a man. Don’t destroy your life, but change it. 
Turn to God in sincere repentance. You still have 
much to live for. The Angelus is announcing that 
God became man to save you.” 

With the rope around his neck, John Toner fell on 
his knees. He had forgotten the Angelus but still 
remembered the Hail Mary and the act of contrition. 
Until the sun rose out of Lake Michigan, he prayed 
as he had never prayed before, for pardon, resolution, 
strength and perseverance. He then went to St. 
Michael’s church and made a good Confession. To-day 
he is known as a sober, industrious, and successful 
business man. He owns a neat home in Rogers Park, 
and loves to spend his evenings with his wife and 
family. _ «. -4# 



THE SEXTON IS CONVERTED BY THE 


“SINNER’S BELL” 



HERE is an occasional confirmation of the say- 


ing: “The nearer the church, the farther from 
God.” In a little town of Minnesota, Conrad Huber 




116 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


had been sexton for many years, but had never been 
seen at the Communion rail before the Redemptorist 
Fathers came to preach a mission. As he was most 
exemplary in other respects, his negligence in ap¬ 
proaching the Sacraments was a source of anxiety to 
the pastor, of solicitude to his family, and of sincere 
regret to the entire congregation. 

In conducting the spiritual exercises for the faith¬ 
ful, the Redemptorist Fathers seek to awaken the con¬ 
sciences of negligent Catholics and stimulate their 
good will. One of the means they employ to attain 
this end is the tolling of the “Sinners’ Bell” while 
priest and people kneel and pray five Our Fathers and 
Hail Marys for the conversion of the sinners of the 
parish. Church bells are solemnly blessed to bring 
a message of grace to all who hear them. At this 
exercise the bell is tolled because Mother Church is 
mourning the spiritual death of some of her children. 
And because there is hope while there is life, she prays 
to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament to restore these 
souls to the life of grace by sincere conversion. 

Being a man of honor, Conrad Huber reluctantly 
tolled the bell for his own spiritual demise. Gladly 
would he have put the solemn warning of the “Sin¬ 
ners’ Bell” out of his mind. Even if such a thing had 
been possible, his little daughter Frieda was on hand 
to prevent it. Embracing him tenderly before going 
to church Thursday evening, she said: “Papa, it makes 
me cry to hear you ring the ‘Sinners’ Bell’ while you 
yourself have not gone to the Sacraments for ever so 
long. Promise me that you will go to Confession with 
us tonight. I will then gladly pray for the conversion 
of the others while you ring the bell.” 

That night the “Sinners’ Bell” was not tolled at the 
accustomed time. One of the missionaries, who was 
on hand to keep order, found the sexton on his knees, 
weeping bitterly, while the bell rope dangled me¬ 
chanically in his hands. “Toll the bell, Mr. Huber,” 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


117 


he gently urged. “I can’t. I haven’t been to Con¬ 
fession for thirty-five years, and I made a bad one 
then!” “Don’t let that worry you too much,” replied 
the missionary as he reached for the rope and tolled 
the bell. “After Benediction come to me and I will 
help you make that all right.” Conrad Huber ac¬ 
cepted this invitation. Instead of kneeling in the rear 
of the church in the morning, as had been his habit, 
he went to the family pew for the first time, and 
edified the congregation by receiving Holy Commu¬ 
nion with his wife and children. 


A MOTHER’S LOVE 

T3 OTH Mr. and Mrs. La Blanc were descendants 
of the French settlers in Louisiana. Though 
poor in material goods, they treasured their faith and 
were devout clients of Mary. God blessed them with 
an only son, whom they named Eli and sought to 
bring up in the devout traditions of the family. But 
Eli was talented and did not wish to remain on the 
plantation. After graduating from the high school, 
therefore, they enabled him to study law at the Tulane 
University. Having distinguished himself in his pro¬ 
fession, he held various political positions and eventu¬ 
ally became United States senator. Unfortunately, 
however, he neglected his religion after leaving home, 
proclaimed himself an infidel, and even denied his 
origin from the humble couple in Lafayette. 

For many years Mr. and Mrs. La Blanc lamented 
the loss of their son and felt it the more he grew in 
prominence. When he was near the zenith of his 
career, his poor mother sought to visit him one day 
but was publicly disowned by him and refused admit¬ 
tance when her arrival was announced by one of his 
attendants. From that day she had to content herself 


118 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 

with praying for his conversion. Only a mother who 
had lost her son could fathom the depth of her grief 
and console her in her affliction. Thus it was that 
Mrs. I .a Blanc went to the Mother of Sorrows for 
consolation and help. For years she knelt daily before 
the Pieta in her parish church and prayed as St. 
Monica prayed for the conversion of Augustine. 

In 1878 the yellow fever raged with particular vio¬ 
lence throughout the South. One morning the papers 
announced that Senator La Blanc had been stricken 
with the dreaded disease. This was the only informa¬ 
tion his parents received of his illness. Mr. La Blanc 
knitted his brows when he read the paper. “Eli’s 
career is drawing to a close,” he remarked as he wiped 
his glasses and relit his pipe. “Soon the public will 
forget him, but we must take the memory of his in¬ 
gratitude with us to the grave.” “Has Eli the yellow 
fever?” cried his mother with genuine solicitude. “Oh, 
God, be merciful to him before he dies! Papa, I must 
go to see him!” she then said with decision. “Then 
you must go alone, dear,” replied Mr. La Blanc sadly. 
“It’s the only trip on which I am not prepared to 
accompany you!” 

When Mrs. La Blanc arrived at the magnificient 
mansion of her son she was turned away as a harm¬ 
less lunatic by the servants. Fortunately, however, 
the attending physician came from the patient just 
then. He knew the humble origin of the Senator, 
readily believed the woman, and took her to her dying 
son. “Oh, Eli, Eli,” she exclaimed as she embraced 
him tenderly, “my heart has longed for you all these 
years!” The son was deeply touched and suffered his 
mother to caress him to her heart’s content. 
“Mother,” he said at last, “I am an awful sinner. I 
have become a real heathen. God cannot forgive me.” 

“You have wronged me shamefully, Eli.” replied his 
mother, “and still I, your mother, have forgiven you. 
and prayed daily for you. Do you think that your 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


119 


Mother in heaven, to whom 1 consecrated you as a 
child, will be less merciful than your own mother? 
No, Eli, she has been pleading with her Son for you 
all these years.” “Then I will gladly see a priest and 
be reconciled to God,” replied her son, deeply touched 
by the goodness of his own mother. He received the 
Sacraments with evident signs of repentance. In his 
will he bequeathed his mansion to the state as a home 
for orphans that had never known a mother’s love. 
Though otherwise forgotten today, Senator La Blanc’s 
memory is still held in benediction for this dying act 
of charity. 


“TOO BUSY TO MAKE THE MISSION” 

T N consequence of dissensions over the building of 

the church at -, Neb., many parishioners 

absented themselves from divine services. When the 
pastor resigned, his successor sought to establish 
peace and fervor in the congregation through the 
exercises of a mission. The missionary was charmed 
with the church, which the piety of the faithful had 
erected to the service of God, and made a strong ap¬ 
peal to his hearers to become living temples of the 
Most High by making the mission with a sincere good 
will. Touched by grace, the parishioners resolved to 
make the mission well, and to bring their neighbors 
and friends to the exercises. 

Frank-was one of the lukewarm Catholics of 

the locality. He lived on a ranch a mile south of the 
church, and was considered the richest man in the 
congregation. Though he had not contributed to the 
erection of the new church, he was well thought of 
by the people, and three of his friends called on him 
to invite him to the exercises. “Frank, we are having 
a mission,” they said. “The priest is giving us a square 
deal, and we are all going back to church. We want 






120 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


you to come too and make the attendance unanimous.” 
“Gentlemen, I thank you for your kindness,” replied 

Mr.-, “but I am too busy to make the mission. 

I am going to ship four carloads of wheat and two 
carloads of cattle this week, and that will take up all 
my time.” 

While the faithful attended the exercises of the 
mission, Frank’s wagons hauled wheat to the cars on 
the siding, and he followed in an old buggy to superin¬ 
tend the unloading. This activity continued until 
Friday night. On Saturday morning his cattle were 
driven to the yard, loaded and shipped. On his return 
friends begged him at least to receive the Sacraments 
even though he had not followed the exercises. But 
the rich man declared that he was tired and in need of 
rest, and so continued on his way. 

Mr.-was not seen again until Monday morn¬ 

ing, when he was returning from the telegraph office 
with information about the sale of his cattle. The 
faithful had just attended services for their deceased 
relatives and friends, and were filing out of the church 
when they saw his well-known horse and buggy ap¬ 
proach. Just as Mr.-was in front of the church 

his body was observed to lurch to one side and lean 
heavily against the bows of the top. His faithful old 
horse seemed to sense some wrong and came to a stop. 
When his friends gathered round they found that Mr. 

- had suffered a sudden seizure of some kind 

and was dead. “Poor Frank,” sadly remarked the man 
who had invited him to the mission, “twenty times a 
day you passed the church during the mission with¬ 
out coming in, so the Lord let you die here to teach us 
a lesson. What will your wheat and your cattle, your 
land and your money profit you now?” 






ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


121 


A SINNER IN WHOM OUR LADY WAS 
INTERESTED 

\\ 7HEN Sister Amy was obliged to go to the hos- 
^ * pital for an operation, her only regret was oc¬ 
casioned by her enforced idleness. “Think of the good 
I could do in the convent where the dear sisters are 
overworked,” she remarked to the missionary. “Here 
I am away from my community with nothing to do 
but to get well.” With a sigh of resignation she added: 
“May God’s holy will be done!” “A religious, who 
is united to her divine Spouse by the Communion of 
the Cross can do much good,” replied the missionary. 
“Patiently endure your affliction in union with the 
suffering of our Saviour for the success of the mis¬ 
sion we begin next Sunday.” “I will gladly do that,” 
remarked Sister Amy, “and pray the rosary too for the 
conversion of the soul in whom our Lady is specially 
interested.” 

The mission was scheduled to close on the feast of 
the most Holy Rosary. In their eagerness to profit 
by the exercises the women crowded the church dur¬ 
ing the first week, and received Communion in a body 
on the last three mornings. When the week for the 
men began, the clergy felt some anxiety on account of 
the large number of young men absent in the federal 
service. To their surprise, however, men flocked to 
the exercises from all parts of the city, so that the 
Confessions were as numerous as during the women’s 
week. 

Towards the end of the mission, when the men 
were besieging the confessional to make their peace 
with God, the missionary opened the slide and asked 
the usual question: “How long since your last Con¬ 
fession?” Instead of the routine answer, the penitent 
replied: “About forty years, Father. Before I begin I 
want to tell you something about myself. I was born 


122 


IT MIGHT BE YOtl 


of good parents in an eastern city and received an 
excellent Catholic education. The pastor even urged 
me to study for the priesthood. As I did not wish to 
make the necessary sacrifices I avoided him, and soon 
afterwards fell in with evil companions. Up to last 
night I haven’t said a prayer since I drifted westward, 
and this is my first visit to a church since I left home. 
I have a good position here and have been sober since 
the state went dry. 

“When I returned to my apartment last night I was 
surprised to find a hospital cot in the middle of the 
room. On the bed lay a young woman dressed as a 
sister. She was so absorbed in praying the rosary 
that she did not observe my entrance, while I was so 
spellbound that I did not stir until she had finished 
her devotions. In conclusion I heard her say: ‘Dear 
Mother, I offer you my suffering and prayers for the 
conversion of this sinner, in whom you are specially 
interested.’ In my bewilderment I then rushed from 
the room and summoned the landlady. 

“When we returned there was no sign of the hos¬ 
pital cot or its saintly occupant. The landlady accused 
me of drinking, but in verification of my assertion I 
found this rosary on the floor, where it had evidently 
fallen from the sister’s hand. It is needless to say this 
experience has made a lasting impression on me. I 
must admit, in spite of my misspent life, that the holy 
nun offered her suffering and prayer for my conver¬ 
sion, and that I am the object of the special solicitude 
of the blessed Mother of God. As soon as the land¬ 
lady departed I knelt down and prayed the rosary as 
far as I remembered it. This morning I accidently 
heard of this mission, and resolved to come and make 
a good Confession. If you help me settle my account 
with the Almighty, Father, I will be most grateful. 
And I promise you in advance to make a radical 
change in my life.” 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


123 


“THOSE SCAPULARS’’ 

ENTLEMEN, the sanctification of souls is the 
work of divine grace, of which you are to be 
the instruments,” the director of a seminary used to 
say to the students. “To become the fit instruments of 
grace you must labor as though the salvation of the 
world depended on your unaided efforts, and pray as 
though the eternal happiness of every soul was to be 
procured by your individual supplication.” Under his 
wise guidance the young men denied themselves all 
but the essentials of life, studied diligently to become 
enlightened ambassadors of Christ, and prayed per- 
severingly for the guidance of Providence and the 
quickening influence of grace. After their ordination 
they devoted a period of time to the immediate prepa¬ 
ration for their missionary labors, and were then 
assigned as companions to experienced missionaries 
before they were appointed to conduct missions alone. 

When one of these young missionaries was sent out 
alone for the first time he forgot the novelty of the 
journey on account of the responsibility that rested 
upon him. Little had he dreamed as. a boy that one 
day he would be privileged thus to take the Master's 
place in enlightening honest minds and inclining will¬ 
ing hearts on the way to true happiness. From the 
beginning he threw himself into his work with all the 
ardor of his soul, and stormed heaven night and day 
in humble supplication to make his labors effective. 

Realizing his lack of experience the young mis¬ 
sionary was ever on the alert for hints to improve the 
efficiency of his labors, and thus discovered the follow¬ 
ing instance of the mysterious operation of grace. 
While hearing Confessions a penitent presented him¬ 
self and stated that it was thirty-eight years since his 
last Confession. “What point of my sermon touched 
you?” asked the missionary in the hope to use that 


124 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


matter to advantage on other occasions. “Nothing 
that you said touched me,” replied the man, “but when 
you held up those scapulars at the beginning of the 
service a thrill went through my soul and made me 
see all the sins I have committed since I was sixteen 
years of age/’ 

“Have you been practising some devotion to the 
Blessed Virgin during these years?” asked the mis¬ 
sionary with the assurance of receiving an affirmative 
answer. “As far as I remember I haven’t said a 
prayer during all those years until tonight,” honestly 
replied the penitent, and then proceeded to give an 
outline of his life. “I was invested with the scapulars 
on the day of my first Holy Communion, and wore 
them until I was sixteen. Then I was tempted to 
commit a mortal sin, but didn’t dare do it with my 
scapulars on. As the hankering was great I threw 
away my scapulars and committed the sin.” Here he 
paused awhile and wept like a child. 

“I knew I couldn’t be forgiven without Confession,” 
he then proceeded, “and as I was ashamed to confess 
my sin I gave myself up for lost, and naturally quit all 
the devotions my mother had taught me. When you 
held up those scapulars I was here in the rear of the 
church, and, turning to the stand where they were 
sold, bought one. As soon as I put it into my pocket 
the fear of Confession left me. Some invisible power 
seemed to hold me in church after the services were 
over and force me in here. I am anxious to make a 
good Confession now, if you will kindly help me.” 
“You ought to be thankful to our Lady all the days of 
your life for this miracle of grace,” remarked the mis¬ 
sionary with emotion, as he wiped away a sympathetic 
tear from his cheek, and proceeded to help the man 
make a good Confession. 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


125 


“A JUDGMENT OF HEAVEN” 

OOD WILL must cooperate with grace to effect 
the sanctification of mankind. Both were in 
evidence at the Clinton mission. Though the parish 
is large, its parishioners were well prepared for the 
extraordinary grace. As a preparation, public prayers 
were said in the church for a month in advance, and 
members of the parish societies canvassed the city to 
invite the neligent Catholic and the honest non-Cath- 
olic to the exercises. When the missionaries came, 
they made so favorable an impression that the women 
alone filled the church and crowded the sanctuary at 
the evening services. 

During the second week the mission was equally 
well attended by the men. At the solemn close of 
their services over nine hundred appeared in the pro¬ 
cession with lighted candles. In fact, only three men 
of the parish did not make the mission. Two of these 
were nominal Catholics, who scoffed at the mission 
and ridiculed the persons that invited them to attend. 
The third belonged to a good family, but had grown 
indifferent and did not wish to amend his life. While 
the rest of the men were solemnly renewing their 
baptismal vows and protesting they would serve God 
henceforth with loyal hearts, these three met and 
prepared to go on a fishing trip the following morning. 

Clinton is situated on the bank of the Mississippi. 
The Catholic church is built on an eminence a block 
above the Northwestern tracks. Perhaps our three 
fishermen, like Chore, Dathan and Abiron in the days 
of Moses, had guilty consciences when they ap¬ 
proached the house of God. Perhaps they did not 
advert to the steep grade that extended from the 
church to the railroad crossing. At any rate, they 
went down the incline at a terrific speed just as a 
train came thundering along. The front wheels of 


126 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


their auto had crossed the tracks when the train 
crashed into them. They were killed instantly, and 
fragments of their machine were strewn along the 
right of way. 

The accident happened while men were on their way 
to work, and pious women were setting out to assist 
at holy Mass. Thus, in the space of a few brief mom¬ 
ents, a large part of the congregation was assembled 
to witness the grewsome scene. Though horribly 
mangled the remains of these men were soon identi¬ 
fied. When the multitude discovered that these were 
the men who had refused to make the mission, their 
excitement was hushed into silence and the fear of the 
Lord came upon them. Just then the reporter of the 
local paper appeared on the scene. When he learned 
that the men who had been killed had studiously 
avoided the excercises of the mission, he headed his 
report of the accident with “A Judgment of Heaven.” 
“Father, if you were to come back for another mission 
now,” remarked one of the parishioners to the mission¬ 
ary a month later, “I think even every non-Catholic 
in Clinton would attend.” 


NO HAPPINESS WITHOUT RELIGION 

LADYS HEATON-PAGE was the only child of 
her parents. As her father had been a miner 
and her mother an adventuress, she grew up without 
religion. Gladys was remarkable for her beauty and 
charm as a child, and became the admiration of all 
when she budded into womanhood. With her father’s 
wealth at her disposal, and her mother’s ambition to 
direct her, she received a superficial education in an 
exclusive institution, and traveled extensively before 
she married the man of her mother’s choice. 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


127 


As love of God and interest in suffering humanity 
were unknown to both Mr. and Mrs. Heaton-Page, 
they continued their selfish, pleasure-seeking existence 
after they had merged their lives. Before the war they 
maintained luxurious establishments in New York, 
Palm Beach and Pasadena, and radiated from these 
centers for a time as fashion dictated, or their caprice 
suggested. To safeguard their precious lives, when 
others sacrificed their lives for the success of the war, 
they retired to their mansion on Orange Grove Ave., 
Pasadena, with the intention of remaining there until 
the sun of universal peace would again gladden the 
world. 

Patriotic Californians describe the Los Angeles dis¬ 
trict as the modern Garden of Eden, and Orange 
Grove Ave., Pasadena, as the very center of the gar¬ 
den, from which the fountain of life emanates. Be 
that as it may, eastern tourists find the boulevards and 
oiled roads of the district ideal for motoring, its vege¬ 
tation a source of perennial delight, and its society 
sufficiently diversified to suit the tastes of all in need 
of recreation after the strain and grind of serious life. 

But the Heaton-Pages were not tourists in need of 
rest and recreation. Neither were they invalids who 
had come to bask in the sunshine, and to inhale the 
sea breeze of California. In their selfish pursuit of 
new sensations they had never done a thing to benefit 
humanity. While others in their patriotism made 
great sacrifices for their country’s sake during the war, 
they lived a monotonous life in their mansion. At 
length Mr. Heaton-Page went to Catalina to find 
diversion in hunting wild goats, and left his wife 
alone. 

After her husband had departed, Mrs. Heaton-Page ac¬ 
cepted an invitation to a social affair in Beverly Hills. 
Finding the company uninteresting, however, she re¬ 
turned home that very night. When one of her at¬ 
tendants entered her apartment about noon the next 


128 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


day, she found the body of her mistress in a pool of 
blood upon the floor. Even her flimsy ball dress was 
covered with gore. Her husband’s revolver lay near 
the body and on a table was this note addressed to 
her husband. 

“Though I am young and rich, loved and admired, 
I am unutterably miserable. I have tasted all the 
pleasures of my station in life, and regret I ever saw 
the light of day. Had I been born as the child of a 
washerwoman I might have had ambition to seek hap¬ 
piness in serving God and benefiting mankind. But 
now my heart is sickened to death by a surfeit of van¬ 
ities and I care to live no longer. Good-bye.” 


A GENUINE CONVERT 



LYDE WARREN was born of non-Catholic 


parents and brought up without religion. His 
natural integrity and studious habits had preserved 
him from the grosser vices of youth and made him a 
general favorite. In time he chanced to meet Marie 
Boulonger. a devout Catholic, and resolved to win 
her as his wife. When he sought to court her, how¬ 
ever, she discouraged his attention by saying: “Mr. 
Warren, life is too serious a matter for me to consider 
any gentleman but a genuine Catholic as my special 
friend.” 

Six months later Clyde Warren presented himself 
at the Boulonger home and informed Marie’s mother 
that he had joined the Church. Though Mrs. Bou¬ 
longer heartily congratulated him on the step he had 
taken, she did not invite Clyde to see her daughter. 
Instead she gave him a motherly lecture on the 
responsibilities of married life, assured him of Marie’s 
sincere attachment, but insisted on his proving him- 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


129 


self a genuine Catholic before she would regard him 
as a prospective son-in-law. 

If Clyde had not realized Marie’s sterling worth he 
might not have been as persevering in his efforts to 
qualify for her hand as Jacob was to win Rachel. As 
matters stood, however, he was fully aware that his 
future happiness depended entirely on the efforts he 
would make to win the approval of Marie and her 
mother. This thought exercised a stimulating in¬ 
fluence upon him throughout the year, and, like the 
foundation that is allowed to settle, prepared him for 
the responsibilities of married life. With no visible 
object on which to lavish his affection, he turned to 
God in prayer, reflection and self-examination. And, 
in proportion as his knowledge of religion grew, his 
heart also expanded with genuine devotion. He thus 
not only lived a blameless life, but also became accus¬ 
tomed to the recitation of the Rosary and the frequent- 
ation of the Sacraments. In fact, his conduct was so 
exemplary, and his zeal for the true faith so great, 
that in the course of the year he brought five other 
converts to his pastor for instruction. 

Shortly after the marriage Ray Warren returned 
from the Philippines with various presents for the 
young couple. Among them was a gold chalice and 
other sacred utensils taken from a church. “Brother,” 
began Ray in a flippant manner as he exhibited the 
looted articles, “these are from the shrine of the Cath¬ 
olic goddess near Manila.” “Stop! You blasphemous 
robber!” exclaimed Clyde in righteous indignation. 
“We are Catholics! Your conduct is insulting to my 
wife and to me!” “What? You Catholics?” exclaimed 
Ray in surprise as he stared at his favorite brother. 
“You will have to pardon my ignorance in religious 
matters,” he added in a conciliatory tone. “It has led 
me to make common cause with the boys who have 
filled the pawnshops from San Francisco to New York 
with this stuff. I apologize for having given offense. 


130 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


Show me the extent of my wrong and I will make 
amends.** By the time Clyde had concluded his ex¬ 
planation, Ray was not only prepared to make restitu¬ 
tion but also to be instructed in the true faith. 


THE MISSIONARY OF THE OZARKS 

\17HEN the Iron Mountain railroad was completed 
* * from St. Louis into the heart of the Ozarks, 
Bishop Ilennessy, then pastor of Iron Mountain, pur¬ 
chased Arcadia college from the Methodists, and in¬ 
vited the Ursuline Sisters to conduct it as a boarding 
school for girls. From this center the sisters went 
forth to evangelize the children in the mining camps, 
and soon established day schools at Arcadia, Iron 
Mountain, Pilot Knob and Graniteville. By their zeal 
and spirit of sacrifice they gradually dispelled the mist 
of ignorance and bigotry that had settled in the Ar¬ 
cadia valley, and made many converts. The most con¬ 
spicuous among the latter was the daughter of a prom¬ 
inent Ironton couple, who joined the Order, and, as 
Mother Blanche, labored faithfully to establish relig¬ 
ion in the Ozarks. 

When Father Lawrence Wernert succeeded Bishop 
Hennessy, he was chaplain of Arcadia college, and 
became pastor of a territory one hundred miles square, 
that had a Catholic population of about one hundred 
families. Observing the excellent work done by 
Mother Blanche at Pilot Knob, Father Wernert had 
her put in charge of the more promising school at 
Graniteville. It never entered the mind of Mother 
Blanche to confine her labors to the class room. There 
indeed she drilled the children in the practice of their 
religion, and gave them a thorough knowledge of 
the necessary branches of secular learning. But 
through the children she made the acquaintance, and 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


131 


won the affection of the entire community. She used 
her influence to establish a Catholic atmosphere in the 
homes, and to induce the parishioners to attend divine 
services and to frequent the Sacraments. On Sundays 
Mother Blanche conducted the Sunday School for the 
benefit of the entire congregation, and sang hymns 
and led in the recitation of the Rosary on the Sundays 
Father Wernert did not say Mass in Graniteville. 

By the time the mission opened, Mother Blanche 
had already made thirty converts and had practically 
all the remaining non-Catholics under instruction. 
The very first day two men introduced themselves to 
the missionary and said: “Father, we are Masons and 
want to give up the lodge; Mother Blanche told us to 
come back to the Church where we belong.” Another 
day Mother Blanche introduced a young couple and 
said: “Father, these foolish children are sorry they 
were married by the squire. I have already instructed 

Mrs. -. Couldn’t you baptize her and the baby, 

and bless their marriage?” On another occasion a 
father introduced a healthy looking girl of eighteen to 
the missionary, saying: “Father, my daughter wants 
to become a sister like Mother Blanche. Will you tell 
her what to do?” With such influence at work, no 
mission could be a failure, thought the missionary. 

Towards the end of the week a blizzard swept down 
on the place, and the thermometer fell to twenty below 
zero by Sunday morning. In this weather Mother 
Blanche drove ten miles against the wind and was 
in ample time to congratulate the people and to thank 
them for making the mission so well, before the final 
services began. On the way back to the convent she 
turned to the missionary and said with evident sincer¬ 
ity: “Father, you have done much good! You have 
reconciled two Masons, baptized four converts, and 
induced every Catholic in the district to receive the 
Sacraments.” And then with a sigh she added: “Would 
that I could be a missionary!” “Mother Blanche.,” re.- 



132 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


plied the missionary, “you are the missionary of the 
Ozarks. I have reaped what you have sown. With¬ 
out your self-sacrificing- efforts to cultivate this corner 
of the Lord’s vineyard there would be little religion 
in Graniteville.” 


“BECAUSE I LOVE THE BLESSED 
VIRGIN” 

ATHER, I came to see you about a very sick 
lady, who lives next door to me,” said a caller 
before the late Mass at a Detroit mission. “She is not 
a Catholic, but is anxious to be baptized.” “Is her 
husband a Catholic?” inquired the missionary. “The 
brute is an apostate,” replied the woman. “Mrs. White 
wanted to become a Catholic when they were married, 
but he wouldn’t let her. Since then he has abused her 
shamefully. During one of his drunken spells three 
months ago he knocked her down and kicked her in 
the side, rupturing something internally. She has 
suffered terribly since, and is dying as the result of his 
mistreatment.” 

“No punishment would be too severe for that man!” 
protested the missionary indignantly. “But I am sur¬ 
prised,” he went on, “that Mrs. White is anxious to be¬ 
come a Catholic after receiving such treatment from 
one who should have been one.” “That’s just it!” 
continued the woman. “She is the sweetest little thing 
you ever saw. She suffers without complaining and 
prays for him night and day.” “Please write the ad¬ 
dress on that pad at your elbow,” directed the mis¬ 
sionary. “I will call on her as soon as the morning 
work is done.” 

As the missionary started to leave, the woman de¬ 
tained him. “Wait a moment, Father, I haven’t told 
you all,” she said. “When her husband realized the 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


133 


harm he had done, he knew there would be trouble, 
so he left before the neighbors found out Mrs. White 
is staying with her parents. They cannot understand 
why she wants to turn after receiving such treatment 
from a Catholic. Her mother is anxious to humor her, 
but her father will shoot any priest that will dare 
enter his house. Besides, Mrs. White belongs to some 
beneficial society, the members of which are bigoted 
non-Catholics. They have vowed Mrs. White shall 
not turn Catholic and watch at her bedside from early 
morning until late at night.” 

‘‘That makes the case interesting,” remarked the 
missionary smiling. “Let us vow that, with the help 
of our Lady, this poor woman will not only die a 
Catholic, but will also receive all the rites of the 
Church.” “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day,” he 
planned aloud. “Would those good women be on 
guard at one o’clock?” “I think not,” replied the wom¬ 
an with approval. “Come to my house and bless my 
children, who have the whooping-cough. While you 
are praying over them I will go next door and inves¬ 
tigate. If the women are gone I will tell the folks I 
have a new doctor for the children and would like him 
to step in and see their daughter.” 

The following day the missionary had no difficulty 
in seeing Mrs. White. In answer to his inquiry she 
replied: “I want to become a Catholic because I love 
the Blessed Virgin. I used to work with a Catholic 
girl who was very modest and reserved,” she went on 
to explain. “When I asked where she learned this 
nice way, she took me with her to the church after 
work, and made me kneel with her before the Blessed 
Virgin’s altar. Do you know, I saw the eyes of the 
statue look at me reproachfully, and I felt ashamed of 
a thousand things I had done to which I had paid no 
attention before. I told the Blessed Virgin I was 
sorry for them, and asked her to help me be good. 
From that moment I wanted to be a Catholic. 


134 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“Until I met with this accident I visited that church 
daily, and prayed that Jack would quit drinking. I 
have studied the Catechism during my leisure hours 
and know all the prayers.” 

The missionary gave that noble soul all the Sacra¬ 
ments for the dying after he had baptized her con¬ 
ditionally. Before leaving he presented Mrs. White 
with a large nickelbound crucifix enriched with the 
special blessing for a happy death. When the women 
returned to stand guard that no priest would enter, 
they saw this crucifix, as she clasped it to her lips. 
“Take that horrid thing away from her,” ordered the 
more officious one. When they proceeded to do so, 
they found that her soul had gone to a better world.” 


AN INFLUENZA CONVERT 

URING the influenza epidemic the hospitals were 
overcrowded with patients. Among those who 
had the disease in a malignant form at the County 
hospital, was a woman who had been a faithful worker 
in one of the non-Catholic churches. Though the 
doctors and nurses did all they could for her, she felt 
week, miserable and disconsolate. Daily she saw the 
priest ministering to the Catholic patients and con¬ 
trasted their restful composure with her own desolate 
condition. “Why not have the consolations of my 
own religion?” she thought, and so requested the nurse 
to telephone for her pastor. 

When the minister and his wife arrived the follow¬ 
ing day an Irish clerk happened to be at the desk. “I 
have been called to see Mrs. So-and-so,” began the 
minister with an assurance he did not possess; “how 
is she this morning?” “She is a very sick woman,” re¬ 
plied the clerk in a perfunctory manner after glancing 
at the records. “You are her family doctor, I sup- 




ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


135 


pose? Ward five. The nurse will direct you/’ “I am 
her pastor,” corrected the visitor with some misgiv¬ 
ings, “and this is my wife.” 

In an instant the clerk was all attention. “It is so 
kind of you to come,” he began with a roguish twinkle 
he could not conceal. “Since this awful epidemic no 
clergyman but those from St. Joseph’s church have 
called on the patients. On account of the contagion 
of the disease,” he went on as he eyed them keenly, 
“the regulations forbid us to admit anyone but a doc¬ 
tor or a clergyman. However, as your wife shares 
your labors, she is privileged to accompany you to the 
patient. To avoid trouble I will write out a permit 
for you and ’phone the head nurse to direct you.” 

“Is this disease awfully contagious?” inquired the 
minister’s wife in alarm. “It is very contagious,” re¬ 
plied the clerk solemnly. “You take your life into 
your own hands by entering the ward, even when you 
wear the gown and mask. But don’t let that worry 
you. Surely every true shepherd is expected to do 
that for the members of his flock.” “Flock or no 
flock,” replied the minister’s wife, “I will not see the 
patient. I have a flock of little ones at home.” “Very 
well, madam,” continued the clerk. “In that case I 
will make out the permit for one.” “We thank you for 
your kindness,” the minister’s wife interposed, “but 
the permit isn’t necessary. I will not permit my hus¬ 
band to contract the disease and give it to me and the 
children.” Then turning to her husband she simplified 
Christian ministration to the dying by saying: “Dear, 
write sister a note and tell her we will pray for her 
recovery, and call on her when she gets well.” 

The note was written and delivered, but somehow 
did not produce the effect expected from a mediator 
with Christ. After revolving the matter in her mind 
for several hours, the patient called the nurse and 
said: “Kindly ask the priest to see me when he makes 
his visits in the morning.” “I’ll ’phone for him now, 


136 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


if you don’t mind,” replied the nurse. “You see, he 
lives close by and requested to be called any hour 
his services are required, and we don’t know what the 
morrow may have in store for you.” As usual the 
priest came prepared to administer all the Sacraments. 
He saw at a glance there was no time to be lost. After 
a few kind words of instruction he baptized the woman 
conditionally, heard her Confession, administered 
Viaticum and Extreme Unction to her and gave her 
the plenary indulgence for a happy death. When he 
made his rounds the following morning he found a 
different patient in her place. “She passed away 
quietly at 2 o’clock,” explained the nurse in answer to 
his inquiry. 


HE HAD THE PRIEST BUT NOT THE 
SACRAMENTS 

r^YURING a mission in Chicago the pastor took one 
of the missionaries out for a ride. “We’ll call on 

Father -, if you don’t mind,” he suggested as 

they drove along; “I haven’t seen him for months.” 

Just as their car slowed down Father- came 

out of the parochial residence with his cane in his 
hand. “I’m delighted to see you both,” he said as he 
greeted them cordially, “I am on my way to see old 
man Scallon, who is dying. I have been to see him 
twice, but couldn’t induce him to receive the Sacra¬ 
ments. His family is among the best in the parish, 
too. It’s providential you called. Do me the favor of 
accompanying me. I am worried about him.” 

“We have time,” remarked the missionary in answer 
to the pastor’s look of inquiry, and in a few minutes 
the three priests ascended the steps of the Scallon 
residence. For years Mr. Scallon had been a con¬ 
spicuous figure on the Stock Exchange. Though he 
supplied his wife liberally with money, he was 






ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


137 


so absorbed in business matters that he hardly took 
any interest in the development of his children, and 
certainly allowed himself no time for the practice of 
his religion. Even during his illness he sought for a 
time to keep in touch with the market by means of the 
telephone, but during the last week he had done little 
else than stare into space. 

The first time Father-called, he suggested to 

Mr. Scallon that it would be wise for him to be on the 
safe side and receive the Sacraments. “Lots of time 
for that when a man comes to die,” replied the patient 
hotly. “At least you might make up for some of the 
prayers you have neglected by saying a few devoutly 
while you are sick,” kindly admonished Father Smith, 
hoping to find him in better disposition when he called 
again. The next time, how*ever, Mr. Scallon greeted 
his pastor with the inquiry: “How is the market, 
Father?” Observing that the patient had grown vis¬ 
ibly weaker in a few days, Father-replied : “For 

you the stocks of the kingdom of heaven are at a 
premium, and all the treasures of earth will soon be 
worth no more than the first spade of sand that will go 
to fill your grave.” “I’m interested in other matters 
for the present,” retorted the patient, as he turned his 
face to the wall. 

When the three priests now entered his room Mr. 
Scallon stared vacantly at them and murmured: 
“Three of them! They have come to tell me that I 
must die, and give up all!” “We have come to sym¬ 
pathize with you in your suffering,” replied one of the 
visitors, “and do all we can to make you happy.” 
“Tut! Tut!” muttered the sick man. “See here, Mr. 
Scallon,” said the pastor earnestly, “the doctor says 
you cannot live another hour. We came to open 
heaven to you. If you insist on damning your soul, no 
one can prevent you. Still, you ought to think of your 
wife and children, who are weeping and praying for 
you in the next room.” 




138 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“Don’t kill me with your importunity. Give me ten 
minutes to think it over, and I’ll do as you say for their 
sakes.” Some moments were consumed in telling the 
good news to the family. Then the pastor handed the 
holy oils to the missionary, saying: “Tend to him. 
We’ll run over and bring the Blessed Sacrament.’’ 
But the two priests had not reached the front door 
when the nurse emerged from the sick room and said: 
“He is dead! He had a convulsion and was gone be¬ 
fore I could call you, Father.” “He had the priest, 
but not the Sacraments,” grimly remarked the pastor 
to the missionary as they returned home. 


THE GRAND JURY 

IT OLY TRINITY parish,-, Okla., had been 

in ill repute for years before Father-was 

appointed pastor. Under his zealous and paternal 
management, however, its scattered and indifferent 
members were gradually brought together and welded 
into a harmonious unit that rivaled the early Christ¬ 
ians in its spirit of faith and sacrifice. Not only were 
the feasts of the year celebrated with due solemnity, 
but a beautiful Gothic church and a commodious paro¬ 
chial residence were built and paid for, and a flourish¬ 
ing school was established. Thus within the space of 
ten years Holy Trinity parish had developed from a 
disrupted institution to become the model congrega¬ 
tion in the diocese. 

As in the day of holy Job, Satan had reason to be 
envious, and eagerly awaited an opportunity to sow 

discord among the good people of-. Strange as 

it may seem, the incident that furnished him the occa¬ 
sion was the death of a mule belonging to one of the 
prosperous farmers of the locality. For mutual pro¬ 
tection the farmers of the state had organized a bene- 







ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


139 


ficial insurance society. The owner of the mule was a 
member of this organization. Its chief officers resided 
i n -and we re members of Holy Trinity parish. 

After a severe electric storm the carcass of the mule 
had been found in a field by the son of the proprietor. 
He notified the officials of the Farmers’ Mutual Bene¬ 
fit Association of the death of the mule, and filed his 
claim for indemnification. As the Farmers’ Mutual 
did not insure against storms, however, the payment 
of the indemnification depended on whether the mule 
had died a natural death or had been killed by the 
lightning. The officials maintained that, if the mule 
had died a natural death, it would have pawed the soil. 
Hence, as the soil was undisturbed where the carcass 
was found, they refused to pay the insurance, and 
were upheld by the local judge. 

The incident had thus been closed when rumor in¬ 
formed the proprietor of the mule that the officials of 
the insurance society had accused his son of perjuring 
himself at the trial. Without any investigation to dis¬ 
cover the correctness of the statement, he forthwith 
sued the officials in the circuit court for defamation of 
character, and put in a claim for $25,000 damage. As 
he was a prominent and aggressive individual, a good¬ 
ly number of parishioners sided with him, while the 
others sympathized with the officials. Thus the con¬ 
gregation was on the verge of disruption when the 
mission was announced. 

For a while the efforts of the missionaries to estab¬ 
lish peace and harmony were in vain. But when they 
refused the- Sacraments to all who would not be re¬ 
conciled and live in peace, they soon had the support 
of the congregation. The owner of the mule finally 
consented to withdraw his slander suit and leave its 
decision to the pastor and the missionaries. As all the 
interested parties pledged themselves to abide by the 
decision of “the grand jury,” the priests assessed the 
interested parties equally to defray the expenses al- 



140 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


ready incurred in the slander suit. When their deci¬ 
sion was announced with due solemnity from the 

pulpit, the good people of-credited the Fathers 

with the wisdom of Solomon, and cried out: “Thanks 
be to God, the scandal is ended!” 


“MARY LOVES YOU STILL” 

A RE there any ought-to-be Catholics in-?” 

inquired the missionary while discussing the 
prospects of the mission with the pastor at the dinner 
table. “Unfortunately there are some on whom I have 
thus far made no impression,” replied the zealous 
pastor. Among those he enumerated a few were in¬ 
veterate drunkards, some were hopelessly entangled 
in sinful marriages, others were in possession of ill- 
gotten property, and still others were rather victims 
of circumstances than malicious sinners. “It may 
prove both interesting and profitable to call on those 
in the last-mentioned category,” suggested the mis¬ 
sionary. As the pastor was willing, they spent the 
Saturday afternoon before the opening of the mission 
in giving a personal invitation to them. 

Among others, the fathers called on a prominent 
lawyer by the name of Doyle, whose wife had recently 
died. As a young man, Mr. Doyle had unfortunately 
married a non-Catholic woman before a Protestant 
minister. In consequence both husband and wife had 
given up the practice of religion, and permitted their 
children to grow up in complete ignorance of spiritual 
things. When Mrs. Doyle died, her children were 
more solicitous to divide her property among them¬ 
selves than to comfort their desolate father. Bereft 
of his wife, and ignored by the children for whom he 
had slaved forty years, Mr. Doyle was thus in a recep¬ 
tive mood when the priests called upon him. He grate- 






ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


141 


fully accepted their invitation to make the mission and 
attended the exercises faithfully. 

The Sisters of Mercy conduct a boarding and day 

school in -. Besides teaching the children the 

lessons in the catechism, these sisters give a practical 
turn to their religious instructions by directing the 
children to take care of the altars in the parish church, 
and to sing hymns during divine services. At the 
invitation of the missionary, both sisters and pupils 
labored faithfully to make the Blessed Virgin’s serv¬ 
ices as impressive as possible. Not only did they 
decorate our Lady’s shrine with countless flowers and 
candles, but they also prepared all week for a solemn 
procession in honor of our Lady. 

Saturday evening the boys wore cassocks and surp¬ 
lices, while the girls were dressed in white. They 
entered the church carrying banners and a statue of 
our Lady, and sang a popular hymn with singular cor¬ 
rectness and devotion. Before they had marched 
around the church many a heart throbbed anew with 
devotion towards our spiritual Mother, and many an 
eye was moist with heavenly joy. Towards the end 
of the sermon the missionary exhorted the faithful to 
make their-act of consecration to the Mother of God 
with childlike love and confidence. “Even though you 
have neglected her since you passed from under the 
influence of your natural mother, O sinner, Mary loves 
you still,” he said, when the vehement sobs of Mr. 
Doyle threatened for a while to interrupt the beauti¬ 
ful ceremony of consecration. 

When the services were over that night, Mr. Doyle 
sought the pastor and said with great earnestness: 
“Father, you know the Godless life I have lived in 
this town, while the missionaries are strangers to me. 
Help me, therefore, to make a good Confession, and 
keep an eye on me for a while that I amend my life. 
I am firmly resolved to repair the past and to serve 
God and His holy Mother faithfully.” 



142 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


“MARY IS MY MOTHER!” 

will give a nice picture to the child who can 

give a good reason for honoring and loving the 
Blessed Virgin,” announced the missionary in his 
desire to instill devotion to Mary in the hearts of the 
children. Though the parish was small and had no 
Catholic school, the children were sincerely attached 
to the pastor and attended their exercises faithfully. 
Instantly all faces beamed with anticipation. Among 
the children that were anxious to give a reason for the 
faith that was in them was a little girl who waved her 
hand frantically. Doubting her intelligence, however, 
the missionary permitted an older one to answer the 
question. With the assurance of a theologian she 
replied: “Because the Blessed Virgin is the Mother of 
God!” 

“A very good reason,” remarked the missionary, as 
he realized how the children had profited by the in¬ 
struction of their devoted pastor and friend. Having 
given the promised reward, he availed himself of the 
opportunity to explain the dignity of the Mother of 
God and asked for additional reasons for honoring the 
Blessed Virgin. Again the little hand waved fran¬ 
tically while an eager face pleaded to be heard. “Well, 
little one,” asked the missionary kindly, “why do you 
love the Blessed Virgin?” “Because Mary is my 
Mother,” replied the little girl. 

“Out of the mouths of infants Thou hast perfected 
praise,” thought the missionary in the words of the 
Psalmist, when another hand was eagerly raised be¬ 
fore he could express his astonishment at the wisdom 
of the answer given. “Well?” he asked. “Father, I 
know this little girl’s mother,” protested the owner of 
the hand, “and she is not the Blessed Virgin.” Upon 
inquiry the missionary discovered later on that this 
objector was the child of negligent parents and did not 
attend instructions regularly. With some misgivings 


ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


143 


the missionary turned to the little one who had 
claimed Mary for her mother and asked: “How do 
you explain this difficulty?” 

“Father,” replied the devout client of Mary, “this 
girl knows my human mother, but the Blessed Virgin 
became my spiritual mother when she gave us Jesus 
for our Saviour.” “Well said!” remarked the mis¬ 
sionary with cordial approval. “Every one of us has a 
human mother and a spiritual mother. As our human 
mothers gave us natural life, so Mary gave us that 
spiritual life to which we were born in holy Baptism. 
Our human mothers feed, clothe and care for us be¬ 
cause they love us; but if Mary let her dear Jesus die 
upon the cross that we may have spiritual life, she 
loves us more than all other human mothers ever 
loved their children. We should, therefore, thank 
God for having given us the Blessed Virgin for our 
spiritual mother. If we often think on Mary’s love for 
us poor sinners we will all glory in claiming her for 
our mother, and we will go to her in all our spiritual 
difficulties, just as we go to.our human mothers in all 
our natural wants. If we love Mary, we will do some¬ 
thing. to honor her every day.” Then, turning with 
confidence to the little, girl, he said : “As a reward for 
your wise answer .1 will gladly give you the finest 
picture I have, but first I wish to ask you another 
question : What do you do to show your love for your 
spiritual mother?” “Please, Father,” replied the child, 
“I wear the scapulars and pray the Rosary every day.” 


CONVERTS FROM LUTHERANISM 

* f T AM going to town this afternoon and show those 
preachers their error,” solemnly announced Mrs. 
Gruber at dinner on Thursday, after patiently listen¬ 
ing for four days to the praises of the missionaries 
from the members of her family. Mrs. Gruber was a 




144 


IT MIGHT BE YOU 


conscientious and devout Lutheran. Since the death 
of her husband she was more concerned about the 
religious development of her children than about their 
material progress. After fifteen years of example and 
precept, she now realized that her children were in 
danger of renouncing her religion, and resolved to win 
them back by converting the missionaries. 

The mission at-, Minn., had been well adver¬ 

tised and attracted an attendance that grew day by 
day until the church was too small to accommodate 
the devout worshippers. As the Gruber children had 
few diversions on the farm their mother gave her re¬ 
luctant consent for them to attend the mission. The 
preacher, the sermon and the devotion of the faithful 
fascinated them to such a degree that they attended 
every night. As they gradually obtained a glimpse 
of the light of truth they began to show a decided 
preference for the Catholic faith. They had been 
particularly outspoken at the dinner table in discuss¬ 
ing the mission. 

“I have come to warn you of the evil of your ways,” 
began Mrs. Gruber when the missionary entered the 
little parlor of the rectory, “and beg you to accept the 
truth before you do more harm in the community.” 
“My good woman, I do not understand what you 
mean,” protested the missionary with some misgiv¬ 
ings. “You do not understand?” replied Mrs. Gruber. 
“You know very well the Catholic Church was totally 
corrupted when the Holy Ghost inspired Martin 
Luther to preach the pure word of God and save the 
world from the darkness and vice into which the Cath¬ 
olic Church had plunged it. When my husband died 
he left me with four little children. These I have tried 
to rear in innocence and piety, even as my good 
mother brought me up. Since they have attended 
your revival meetings they have expressed a desire to 
embrace your errors. It will break my heart to see 
them forsake the religion of their forefathers.” 



ANECDOTES OF A MISSIONARY 


145 


“Now I understand your position,” replied the mis¬ 
sionary kindly. “I sympathize with you in your 
anxiety about your children. You deserve praise for 
serving God in the sincerity of your heart. I therefore 
ask you, what do you think of a man who says Christ 
made a promise and did not keep it?” 

“He is a blasphemer!” replied Mrs. Gruber empha¬ 
tically. 

“I agree with you,” remarked the missionary. 
“Christ founded His Church for the salvation of man¬ 
kind. He sent the Holy Ghost to keep her in the way 
of holiness and truth. He promised to remain with 
that Church to the end of time, and confidently pre¬ 
dicted the gates of hell would not prevail against 
her. Before the so-called Reformation your fore¬ 
fathers were Catholics. According to your own words, 
Martin Luther blasphemed when he said the church 
which Christ has established, has apostatized from His 
teaching. As sincere Christians I invite you and your 
children to return to that Church from which unscrup¬ 
ulous politicians forced your ancestors.” 

Staggered by the truth, Mrs. Gruber had no reply 
to make. That night she and her children joined the 
inquiry class. Before the mission closed they had 
been received into the one true Church. 










A trademark does not make a 
successful book, but our publi¬ 
cations have made the “Matre 
Trademark” 

The publisher has no particular brand of goods, such as 
the manufacturer of other merchandise. Every book be¬ 
comes a new brand. It would be folly to try to convince 
you that we can guarantee that you will like every book 
published under our trademark. However, it would be 
worth your while remembering in glancing over the titles 
of the “Matre Books,” that these books have been care¬ 
fully selected and published, for a diversified class. We, 
therefore, present to you a few of our publications, and 
trust that if you have not already included these books in 
your library you will do so at once, and if possible, en¬ 
courage the broadest distribution of these worth while 
publications. 

* 


-4 























































































































. 





































IIUIItUIIIUMIUtilltlUUIIUUUIliUUIUIUItUUUUUUUMUiUUiUltUUtlUtUUlllUiaiUUUUIIIIIIUIUUUUlt^ 


* 


The dementia Books 

Until the advent of dementia, the field of Catholic girl 
juveniles was practically untilled. Catholic literature had 
many good writers of boys' stories, Father Finn, Spalding 
and others have made the Catholic boy well known to 
thousands of readers. But the Catholic girl has not fared 
as well at the hands of our Catholic story writers. 

dementia’s “Berta & Beth Books''* ably fill the want of 
good reading, and promise to surpass in popularity even 
the other deservedly popular dementia stories, “The 
Mary Selwyn Books ” intended for older children. Grace¬ 
ful in style, wholesome in matter and sympathetic in treat¬ 
ment, they have gathered hosts of readers, among our 
Catholic little ones, and solved a very great problem, for 
Catholic parents. 

The chief characteristic of the dementia books is joy¬ 
ousness. They seem to radiate joy and happiness, which 
is the innocent emanation of the childish heart. * * * * 
dementia understands Catholic girl life, and has the art 
of simple and clear expression. She is a delightful writer 
of Catholic girl stories of exceptional merit. We are sure 
that not only children but many of their elders will enjoy 
reading her books, which will recall to them the sweet 
innocent days of their own childhood, and will give them 
new ideas about the new thoughts, instincts and hopes of 
their children. 


—“From the Boston Pilot." 






THE BERTA AND BETH BOOKS 


dementia has so often been urged by those who have 
read her other stories to “tell us more about Berta and 
Beth/’ that she has devoted several books to these lovable, 
mischievous Selwyn twins. These publications are not 
sequels to any other books by Clementia, but complete 
stories in themselves. 

BERTA AND BETH 

By Clementia 

“The Best Catholic Juvenile ever Published for a Dollar.” 

We can say without fear of contradiction that this is 
the most original Catholic juvenile book ever published. 
“Berta & Beth,” the lovable twins, who have figured with 
such delightful prominence in the more recent works of 
“Clementia” have here a book entirely their own. Mary 

Selwyn tells the story (and a very joyous story it is), and 
little Wilhelmina has turned illustrator. A series of 
twenty-nine quaint pictures from her own pen emphasizes 
the more important points of the story. No Catholic 
juvenile possesses three points equal to these three of 
“Berta and Beth.” 

1. A colored illustrated jacket and frontispiece. 

2. Authorship by the most famous of Catholic writers 
for girls. 

3. The right kind of a price—One Dollar. 

Read this book yourself and give every child you know 
a copy of it. 




MARY’S RAINBOW 

“A Book You Will Love to Read.” 


4 


This book tells a great deal about Mary’s life and satis¬ 
fies the demand for more about those two lovable, mis¬ 
chievous “twinnies” who furnish much of the amusement 
and not a little excitement in dementia’s other books. 

Price $1.00 each, postpaid 


MOSTLY MARY 

“A Book for Readers Aged 7 to 77 ” 

This is not a sequel to any other book by Clementia, 
but a complete story in itself, the first of the “Berta & 
Beth’’ series. It tells us something of Mary Selwyn’s 
early history. 

Price $1.00 each, postpaid 


^iiuiuui 


4 









^KUIIIIIUIIIIIIUIUIIIUIIIIUUIIUIIUIIIIUIUIIIUIUUIUUll 


imuiiiiiuimiHiiuinmuum iiiiiiimi ii^ 


The Mary Selwyn Books 

The Mary Selwyn books are intended for older chil¬ 
dren. They have created quite a stir in the field of 
Catholic Girls and are considered suitable stories for 
grown-ups as well as children. 


THE SELWYNS IN DIXIE 

By Clementia 

This is one of the Mary Selwyn books. A complete 
story—288 pages—bound in cloth, with attractive jacket 
and frontispiece. It tells a great deal of the history of 
Wilhelmina Marvin, and it surely has created quite a stir. 
If you have not already read it, you will regret not hav¬ 
ing done so before. 

Price $1.50 each, postpaid 


SOME OF THE OTHER MARY SELWYN BOOKS 

Bird-A-Lea, a complete story, illustrated, $1.50 each, post¬ 
paid. 

Uncle Frank's Mary, with frontispiece, $1.50 net, postage 
extra. 

The Quest of Mary Selwyn, a sequel to Uncle Frank’s 
Mary, with frontispiece, $1.50 net, postage extra. 




The World is Talking About 

“Dominus Vobiscum” 

A Book of Letters by Rt. Rev. Msgr. Francis C. Kelley, 
D.D., LL.D. 

This statement for all its comprehensiveness and for 
all its apparent boastfulness, is not a piece of publisher’s 
“blurb.” It is simply a plain statement of a plain, prov¬ 
able fact. However, there must be something genuinely 
worth while about a book, which elicits the praise of His 
Holiness, the Pope, Cardinals, Archbishops, Bishops, 
Seminary Professors, Pastors, Curates, Episcopalian and 
Protestant Divines and the entire Catholic Press. 

Letters of commendation were received from His Holi¬ 
ness, the Pope; His Eminence P. Cardinal Gasparri; His 
Eminence, William Cardinal O’Connell; His Eminence, 
R. Cardinal Merry del Val; His Eminence D. Cardinal 
Dougherty; His Eminence, D. Cardinal Sbarretti and 
many other dignitaries of the Church. 

The following are but a few of the commendations made 
by many members of the Ecclesiastical world: “A Liter¬ 
ary Gem,” “Completely Different,” “The Best Book of 
Its Kind,” “Bristles with Epigrams,” “A Force for God,” 
“A Powerful Incitement to the Evangelical Spirit,” “Good 
for All Ages,” “An Exquisite Book,” “For Seminary Re- 

^iiiiuuuim . . . - .... . 





^UtumUUUIUUMUIUMUIUUUUMUUUIlil 


4 


fe dories” Useful for Laity” “Good for Others” (mean¬ 
ing other denominations), “Models of Correspondence,” 
“Absolute Originality,” “Cleverness and Tad,” “Very 
Fine,” and all will be “The better for reading it.” 

“Dominus Vobiscum” is a book of Familiar Epistles 
addressed to a Young Man who is about to be admitted to 
the ranks of the Priesthood of the Church Catholic, by 
one Father William, a Venerable and Experienced Pastor, 
whose own desires are directed to the End that the said 
Good Youth may show the fruit of his Counsels in a 
Happy and Useful Life for God, His Service. 


PRESENTING A WORTHY BOOK WORTHILY 

Believing that a worthy book should be presented in a 
manner consistent with its merit we have taken special 
pains in making the material aspects of “Dominus Vobis¬ 
cum” worthy of its message. 

Handsomely bound in cloth, with a neat jacket and a 
book plate printed on inside of cover for the name of the 
owner. It has 274 pages—$1.50 per copy, postpaid. Also 
in rich suede leather with circuit edge, gilt top, $3.00 per 
copy, postpa ; d. 






IIUUUUUMtllUtUtlHMUHIUIMUllUIIIIUIUUUUI 


4 


4 


The Brides of Christ 

By Mother Mary Potter 
“Practical from Beginning to End,” 

“The Brides of Christ” is a book that the spiritual di¬ 
rector or confessor of a community of Sisters cannot 
afford to leave off his desk. 

We cordially recommend it to religious as well as to 
women in the world, who are straining after spiritual 
perfection. 

The most welcome addition to our spiritual books that 
has come our way for some time. Like its predecessors, 
the latest book by Mother Potter is characterized by 
solidity, fervor, sanity and practicability. 

Another St. Teresa speaks to her community, and the 
directions of a saintly and gifted superior are based as 
much upon sensible practical application to life as upon 
the high religious tone of the principles adopted. 

It is entirely practical from beginning to end and de¬ 
void of merely spiritual fancy. 

A little book with a great soul is “The Brides of Christ.” 

Neatly bound in cloth. Price $1.25, net; $1.35, post¬ 
paid. 




^«ui»muim4m»niimuimuiuu»nuiAtMmiiuu»m»uiiiui»i><iiimniii>nuiiiinuiiiiiiuiimutmuuuiuiiM«iuiuimiii»4 

Work, Wealth and Wages 

By Joseph Husslein, S.J ., Ph. D. 

Author of “The World Problem,” “Democratic Industry,” 
“Evolution and Social Progress,” etc. 

“A book for everyone” 

From all parts of the world come striking testimonials 
—and the critics—Catholic as well as non-Catholic—find 
much to praise in the book. 

In these days, when the interests of labor and labor 
unionism are at stake, everyone must be informed of the 
full labor situation and the principles to be applied. 

“Work, Wealth and Wages” is a book that has been 
recommended in the United States, Canada, England, 
India, New Zealand, etc., as a most Sane, Safe, and 
Straightforward Exposition of the Labor Question. 

To supply a popular demand, “Work, Wealth and 
Wages,” has not only been published in cloth, at $1.00 
per copy, postpaid, but can now also be procured in 
paper binding at 25c each, postpaid; 20c each wholesale, 
and $18.00 a hundred. 160 pages; attractive jacket and 
cover. 

The paper bound edition of “Work, Wealth and 
Wages,” should be sold at every Mission, should be placed 
in every bookrack of Catholic Churches, and distributed 
through such organizations as St. Vincent de Paul So¬ 
ciety, Holy Name Society, and all those interested in the 
“working man” today. 

* 


,u, 4 




Where to Buy the 
“Matre Books” 


There are approximately one-hundred and fifty book 
sellers throughout the United States and other English 
speaking countries on whose shelves you will find the 
Matre selection of books. We would appreciate your en¬ 
couraging the dealer in your vicinity by asking for our 
books from them. 

However, if any dealer should fail to supply you with 
our books we will prompty fill the order direct, and we 
might add herewith, that our own stock of Catholic books 
is the most diversified in the Middle West. We have 
books in stock of practically every publisher in the Cath¬ 
olic Field. Our book department is in the hands of 
capable, efficient people and their thorough training assure 
our patrons of the highest service. 

MATRE & COMPANY 
Publishers and Book Sellers 
76 and 78 W. Lake Street 
Chicago, Ill., U. S. A. 




4 



























- 






































. 


































































4 - 











































Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Feb. 2006 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Dnve 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 

(724)779-2111 











© MATfct t COMPANY 






























LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 















































